Secret Daughter: Book Two
by DaughteroftheValar1701
Summary: (SEQUEL to Secret Daughter, link on profile) Thranduil has fathered another child by an elleth whose very name is fraught with dark magic: Laergulwen; Song of Sorcery. He is disgusted and horrified with his mistake, and scared of losing Legolas: Can his daughter survive after he has disowned her, or will the evil in Middle Earth claim her life? (TW: Chapter seven, torture)
1. Welcome!

Welcome back! If you haven't read my first part to this story, run off and do that. Now. The link's on my profile! To my readers from last time, great to "see" you again. Again, this is part two of _Secret Daughter._ Now, this is where we left off: Tirnel has joined the Fellowship after Nemirdir's death, and has been captured along with Merry and Pippin by the Uruk-hai. This story doesn't follow Frodo and Sam, unfortunately, but there's lots of other things! Now, I know I'm posting this before I post any chapters, but this is just something for the in-between time. Love you all, and please get ready for another wild ride!

 **-DotV1701**


	2. The Uruk-Hai : Rohan

Hi all. We here in America are fucked, so if one of my lovely international readers would supply some funds for a one-way ticket to Canada, that would be greatly appreciated. Not really though. Still dead. Here is your chapter!

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Pippin woke, only to find that he would have done better to sleep on. His wrists were bound before him, and his legs were bound above his knees and at the ankle. Beside him lay Merry, pale and bleeding but awake. Tirnel, bound as they were but gagged as well, lay to his other side. **The orcs don't care much for Elvish speak, I guess,** Pippin thought. And orcs there were: There seemed to be no end to them, spread out around the three captives.

Pippin's head throbbed as he remembered the moments before his capture in bits and pieces. He and Merry had run off, shouting for Frodo, and had come straight upon a company of orcs. The orcs had not seen them until the hobbits had nearly stumbled into their arms, and then shrieked with delight. They had almost reached Merry and Pippin when Tirnel appeared out of the forest, Boromir behind her, blowing on his horn.

Even then, it had been no good. Boromir had fought beside the hobbits, driving off the orcs that got past Tirnel, but the orcs were too clever. One of them had drawn a bow and shot Boromir with its foul arrows. The other orcs had closed in around Tirnel and the hobbits, overpowering them in a matter of moments. Their weapons had been taken, Tirnel fighting the process and screaming in Elvish the entire time. Their last sight of Boromir was him slumped against a tree, the archer drawing back a final arrow, aimed at the man's head.

Pippin remembered no more after that, and now wondered why the orcs had not killed him and the others. He felt cold, and his head pained him as the dark fell around him. **Why did I leave Rivendell?** He wondered miserably. **I have only been a burden to the quest, and now I am a burden for the orcs. How I wish that Strider and the others would come and help us. But that would foul up everything. I wish I could get free!**

He struggled, though it was nearly impossible to loosen the cords that were twisted cruelly tight. An orc noticed him and laughed, calling to another in their hideous language. "Rest while you can, little fool!" it snarled in the Common Tongue, mangling it to make it sound almost like its own filthy language. "Rest while you can! We'll find a use for your legs before long. You'll wish you had got none before we can get home."

"If I had my way, you'd wish you were dead now," the other growled. "I'd make you squeal, you miserable rat." It crouched over Pippin's face, fangs bared, drawing a jagged black knife from its side and laying the cold metal against the hobbit's cheek. "Lie quiet, or I'll tickle you with this," it hissed. "Don't draw attention to yourself, or I might forget my orders. Your Elf-scum friend may be the first to go. Curse the Isengarders!" The orc split off ranting in its own language, leaving Pippin in terrified silence. Staying as still as he could, he realized that he could understand the argument that the orcs seemed to be having.

They were debating over two topics: Which way they were to take, and what they were to do with the prisoners. "There's no time to kill them properly," one snapped. "No time for play on this trip."

"That can't be helped," another replied. "But why not kill them quick, kill them now? They're a cursed nuisance, and we're in a hurry. Evening's coming on, and we ought to get a move on."

"Orders," a third growled in a deep voice. "'Kill all but NOT the Halflings; they are to be brought back ALIVE as quickly as possible.' That's my orders."

"Then why do we need her?" one voice yelled, and Pippin saw Tirnel have a foot slammed into her ribs. She winced, a small noise of pain escaping past the gag.

"She's for sport, after we get these two to the wizard," the deep-voiced one snarled, and the one who had kicked Tirnel stumbled, as if shoved away. "The other two are supposed to have information on some elvish plot. They're both to be questioned."

Pippin realized that the orcs believed them to know of the Ring, and guessing from Tirnel's and Merry's expressions they had realized this as well and had come to a conclusion: As soon as the orcs found out that they did not have the Ring, all three of them were dead, Tirnel perhaps sooner than the other two.

"Is that all you know? Why don't we search them ourselves and find out? We might find something we can use ourselves."

"That is a very interesting remark," sneered a voice, softer but more evil than the others. "I may have to report that. The prisoners are NOT to be searched or plundered: those are MY orders."

"Not our orders!" one of the first voices called. "We have come all the way from the Mines to kill, and avenge our folk. I wish to kill, then go back north."

"Then you can wish again," said the deep voice. "I am Uglúk. I command. I return to Isengard by the shortest road."

"Is Saruman the master or the Great Eye?" said the evil voice. "We should go back at once to Lugbúrz."

If we could cross the Great River, we might," said another. "But there are not enough of us to venture down to the bridges."

"I came across," the evil voice said. "A winged Nazgúl awaits us northward on the eastern bank."

"Maybe, maybe! Then you'll fly off, and get all the pay and praise in Lugbúrz, and leave us to hoof it in the Horse-country. No, we must stick together. These lands are dangerous: full of foul rebels and brigands."

"Aye, we must stick together," growled Uglúk. "I don't trust you little swine. You've no guts outside your own sties. But for us you'd all have run away. We are the fighting Uruk-hai! We slew the great warrior, we took the prisoners. We are the servants of Saruman the Wise, the White Hand: the Hand that gives us man's-flesh to eat. We came out of Isengard and led you here, and we shall lead you back by the way we choose. I am Uglúk. I have spoken."

"You have spoken more than enough, Uglúk," the evil voice snarled. "I wonder how they would like it in Lugbúrz. They might think that Uglúk's shoulders needed relieving of a swollen head. They might ask where his strange ideas came from. Did they come from Saruman, perhaps? Who does think he is, setting up on his own with his filthy white badges? They might agree with me, with Grishnákh their trusted messenger; and I Grishnákh say this: Saruman is a fool, and a dirty treacherous fool. But the Great Eye is on him.

"Swine, is it? How do you folk like being called swine by the muckrakers of a dirty little wizard? It's orc-flesh they eat, I'll warrant."

Many loud yells in orc-speech answered him, and the ringing clash of weapons being drawn. Pippin rolled over cautiously, hoping to catch sight of what was happening. The guards of the prisoners had gone to join in the fight. In the twilight, he saw a large black orc, probably Uglúk, facing a crooked-legged creature with long arms, probably Grishnákh, who was surrounded creatures like those that the Fellowship had seen in Moria. They all had weapons drawn and seemed about to attack Uglúk.

Uglúk yelled and several others advanced. A second later, they had leaped upon Grishnákh and the northerners. Grishnákh melted into the crowd as the others gave way. One tripped over Merry, cursing. That saved its life, though, as Uglúk's followers passed over it and slew another which fell on top of Tirnel, who struggled vainly to throw it off. Pippin realized that the orc was still clutching the jagged blade. He shuffled over to Tirnel's side and began to saw at the ropes on his own wrists with the blade that the orc still held fast. He could do nothing for the others, but he managed to cut his own bonds and knot them loosely around his wrists to fool his captors.

"Get the prisoners up!" Uglúk yelled. "Don't play tricks with them! The girl will be sport later, and if any of them don't make it back, someone else will die too."

An orc seized Pippin like a sack and pushed his head through Pippin's barely bound arms. The orc pulled down on the hobbit's wrists until his face was crushed against the orc's neck, then began to run with him. Pippin caught a glimpse of Tirnel and Merry being carried the same way before he let his mind slip back into darkness.

Merry and Tirnel, however, were not as easy to subdue. Tirnel managed to communicate to Merry to drop the brooch of leaves and silver at his throat. Unnoticed by any of the orcs, the little brooch fell to the mud and was crushed in by the heavy metal boots over it.

* * *

The thundering of orc feet resonated through the earth and into the ear of a man, laying flat on the ground. "Their pace has quickened," he muttered. An elf appeared from behind the rocks, blue eyes sweeping the landscapes. "They must have caught our scent. Hurry!" The man ran down the other side as the elf stood atop a spike of stone.

"Come on, Gimli!" the elf cried over his shoulder. He followed the man, and soon a dwarf appeared. Rather than walking, the dwarf tumbled down an incline and landed on his front with a grunt. "OOF! Three days and nights' pursuit. No food. No rest." He hauled himself to his feet and used his axe as a crutch. "And no sign of our quarry but what bare rock can tell." He broke into a grudging trot.

Some time later, the man stopped again, crouching beside a muddy depression. Something silver shone through the mud. The man picked up the silvery brooch, leaf-shaped and beautiful. "Not idly do the leaves of Lórien fall," he muttered.

The elf stopped beside him, a grin breaking over the normally calm face. "They may yet be alive."

"Less than a day ahead. Come!" The man sprang to his feet, tucking the brooch in a pocket as the elf called again.

"Come, Gimli! We are gaining on them!" He sprinted off as the dwarf staggered up from behind.

"I'm wasted on cross-country!" Gimli wheezed. "We dwarves are natural sprinters. Very dangerous over short distances!" He ran on, though, barely keeping the gold hair of the elf in sight.

Presently, they stopped again. The man was gazing out over the land, filled with rolling hills and grassy valleys. "Rohan. Home of the horse-lords," he said. Gimli puffed up behind him as the elf perched on an outcropping of stone. "There is something strange at work here. Some evil gives speed to these creatures. Sets its will against us." The elf nodded and leapt down from where he stood, running ahead. The man reached out to Gimli, who grumbled about insufferable men and long-legged elves before letting his friend pull him ahead.

They ran for a few more hours, until the elf could just see the dust kicked up from the feet of their targets.

"Legolas!" The man's voice echoed among the rocks as he and Gimli approached. "What do your elf-eyes see?"

Legolas shaded his eyes with a slim hand against the sun before calling back. "The _yrch_ turn north-east! They make with all haste for Isengard!"

The man appeared at Legolas's shoulder. "Saruman."

Many long and weary hours later, Gimli collapsed on the grass.

"Aragorn!" he called, trying and failing to sit up. Aragorn stopped and walked back to where the dwarf lay. "I cannot go any further," the dwarf wheezed. "We cannot run through the night."

Aragorn looked over the plains, clearly wishing to go on. Legolas, several hundred feet away, stopped and looked back. "They've run as if the very whips of their masters were behind them!" he called back. "If we stop now, their lead will be extended beyond hope!" He scaled a rock and looked over the grass to where the other two were. "We cannot delay!"

The man put one hand to his head, groaning quietly. "We cannot run through the night!" he yelled. "Gimli is spent, and we would be slower if we forced him to continue!"

Legolas returned to where they sat, eyes flashing in the growing darkness. " _I do not wish to remain,"_ he hissed. " _Every moment we delay is one less for the captives."_

" _I know, mellon,"_ Aragorn said, placing a hand on the elf's shoulder. " _Nor do I._ _But we are left with no choice. Take some rest, and we will continue at dawn."_ Legolas shook off the man's hand and climbed the rock again, a tall dark figure against the stars. Aragorn sighed, and sat with his back against a stone to wait for morning.

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Whoo! I've decided to glom these POVs together, so enjoy!

Sindarin translations

yrch: orcs


	3. Escape to the Forest : The Rohirrim

Hello again. I am dead on my feet, so it's lucky that I'm sitting down. I have been notified that the POV switches are hard to follow. I will remedy this: Each horizontal line breaking the text represents a change, or the end of a chapter. Pretty sure you can tell which is which.

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Pippin woke with a start as the ground reappeared beneath him. Tirnel and Merry were thrown down beside him, both watching the orcs around them with wide eyes.

"We're not goin' no further until we've 'ad a breather!" one of the orcs yelled, panting.

"Get a fire going!" Uglúk yelled. He alone was not breathing heavily. The orcs grabbed weapons and ventured into the edges of the wood that was beside them, chopping into the trunks and branches. Tirnel winced as the trees screamed in her mind. All the hobbits heard was a creaking moan arise from the forest.

"What's that noise?" Pippin asked. He looked scared.

"It's the trees!" Merry hissed. "Remember the Old Forest? On the borders of Buckland?" Pippin nodded, still worried about the orcs. "People used to say that there was something in the water that made the trees come alive. Trees that could talk, and even move!" Tirnel nodded in agreement. Pippin reached over to remove her gag, but stopped as he heard the orcs' conversation move to food.

"I'm starvin'," one growled. "We ain't had nothin' but maggoty bread for three stinkin' days!"

"Yeah!" another agreed, this one with a nasty, sneaky look about him. "Why can't we have some meat?" His eyes caught on Pippin, Merry, and Tirnel. "What about them? They're fresh…"

"They are NOT for eating!" Uglúk roared. He stumped over to where the three captives sat, placing himself between them and the ratty one.

Undeterred, the scrawny orc peered around Uglúk's frame. "What about their legs? They don't need them." He switched sides, licking his lips. "Ooh, they look tasty."

"Get back, scum!" Uglúk bellowed, shoving the ratty orc back.

Yells of "Carve them up!" broke out among the orcs. The hobbits struggled to their feet, shoulder to shoulder as Tirnel tried to sit up by their feet.

The ratty orc pressed forwards, knife ready. "Just a mouthful."

"No!" Uglúk's yell echoed around the trees as he killed the orc. The body fell with a screech, but Uglúk just laughed. "Looks like meat's back on the menu, boys!" he yelled. "Be sure to take some to Mauhúr and his boys. They've been waiting for us for a long time." The orcs stormed forwards, knocking the hobbits to the ground.

Pippin rolled over and slipped his hands free of the ropes, garnering a wink from Tirnel. He reached over to her and pulled the gag from her mouth.

"Thank you," she said. "There's a knife in my boot, if you care to help the rest of us, Pip."

He grinned and retrieved the blade, cutting the ropes on his own legs before freeing Tirnel and Merry. "I've still got a bit of lembas," Merry whispered. They each took a bite before making for the trees. The screeches of the orcs behind them spurred them on, and soon they were within ten feet of the dark eaves of the forest. A foot crashed down on Pippin's back, making him fall.

"Go on," the orc snarled. Tirnel whirled around and grabbed Merry's arm. "Call for help. Squeal. No one's gonna save you now." Tirnel was almost to Pippin's side, her small knife at the ready, when a spear landed in the orc's back. The resulting howl was truly horrible, and Tirnel grabbed Pippin before the orc could fall and crush the hobbit.

Horsemen appeared out of the dark, slaughtering all the orcs that they could. A few orcs got in lucky shots and a few of the riders fell, but more immediately took their places. Merry yelped as the orc with the spear in its back grabbed hold of his belt. "Get rid of it!" Pippin cried, and Merry unclasped it, leaving the elven belt behind. The orc shrieked in fury and shook the belt before being stabbed through by a horseman.

Merry and Pippin both were terrified as they fled into the forest, but Tirnel seemed calm. "Over here, you two," she whispered. They went over to where she was pointing: a tall tree. She gave Pippin a leg-up, but just as she was hoisting Merry towards the lower branches, bushes rustled on the other side of the tree. She left Merry hanging on to the lowest branch and drew her other knife from her arm. Orcs appeared, several of them. They yelled when they saw Tirnel, beginning to charge. She ran right back at them and killed two before managing to sprint past the others, leading them in a chase. Pippin watched from behind the tree, eyes wide. Merry yelped as another orc appeared from behind a rock.

"There you are!" it hissed.

"Pippin! Help!" Merry cried. Pippin grabbed Merry's hands and brought him up into the tree, but the orc snarled and began hacking at the roots.

Pippin glanced at its mossy trunk, searching for a secure handhold as the tree shook, then did a double-take. Trees were not supposed to have eyes. The big amber eyes blinked once, and a horrible squeal issued from the base of the tree as the entire thing moved. Merry toppled out of the tree's branches, but a branch that looked like an arm caught him. Pippin yelped in terror and tried to jump, but the tree caught him.

It blinked again, before speaking in a low, rough voice. "Little orcs. Burhahruhm."

"It's talking, Merry. The tree is talking," Pippin whimpered.

"Tree?" The tree appeared offended. "I am no tree. I am an ent."

"A tree-herder. A Shepherd of the forest!" Merry seemed to be in awe of the massive tree.

"Don't talk to it, Merry. Don't encourage it!" Pippin hissed.

"Treebeard, some call me," the ent said, ignoring or possibly not hearing Pippin's remark.

"And whose side are you on?" Pippin asked carefully.

"Side? I am on nobody's side, because no one is on my side, little orc." Its face softened, and it spoke quietly, "Nobody cares for the woods anymore."

"We're not orcs!" Merry cried. "We're Hobbits!"

"Hobbits? Never heard of a Hobbit before. Sounds like orc mischief to me!" The ent began squeezing the hobbits' middles, making them wince. "They come with fire. They come with axes. Gnawing, biting, breaking, hacking, burning! Destroyers and usurpers! Curse them!"

"No! You don't understand! We're hobbits! Halflings! Shire-folk!" Merry pleaded. Pippin nodded frantically, pulling at the ent's mossy hand.

"Maybe you are, and maybe you are not. The white wizard will know." The ent began to stride off at tremendous speed, its legs taller than three hobbits together.

"The white wizard?" Pippin asked, confused.

Merry's face had gone slack as he whispered, "Saruman." Pippin looked over, horrified. Before they could attempt to escape, the ent dropped them before a glowing figure dressed all in white. Pippin thought briefly as the glow grew to a painful level that Tirnel was surely in a better situation than them.

Tirnel, however, was ambushed before she had gone ten yards. Other orcs had been waiting for their fellows just beyond the trees, and suddenly she was surrounded. Even though the orcs were heavily armed, she still managed to kill five and had just killed a sixth, cutting her enemies down to two when something hit the back of her head and her vision filled with inky night.

* * *

Early the next morning, Aragorn and Gimli were awoken by Legolas. He shook them and pointed at the eastward sun. "A red sun rises!" he said, worry etched into his ageless face. "Blood has been spilled this night." He had felt terror and adrenaline coursing through the connection last night, but they had stopped abruptly shortly before sunrise, leaving his own the only emotions there. The other two made ready to run on without speaking, and soon they were off again, running over the hills.

As the Sun climbed through the sky, Aragorn pulled them to a halt. He looked over the plains, eyes catching on a cloud of dust fast approaching them.

After a moment, he pointed towards an outcropping of stone which he crouched behind, Gimli bringing up the rear. Legolas grabbed the dwarf and pulled him behind the rock as horsemen thundered past. They appeared not to see the three crouching forms, but galloped past. All had passed and were soon to be gone, but Aragorn stood suddenly and called to them. "Riders of Rohan! What news from the Mark?" Almost before he had finished speaking, the leader raised one arm and checked his horse, turning about to where Aragorn stood.

Legolas stood as well, and went to Aragorn's side. " _I do hope you know what you are doing,"_ he muttered. The man grimaced. The horsemen surrounded them, spears at the ready and eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"What business do an elf, a man, and a dwarf have in the Riddermark?" The leader stopped before them, his own spear merely a foot before Aragorn's face. "Speak quickly!"

"Give me your name, horsemaster, and I shall give you mine!" Gimli said, his feet planted and his hands upon his axe. Aragorn and Legolas both rolled their eyes.

The leader considered Gimli for a moment before handing his spear to a rider beside him before dismounting. "I would cut off your head, dwarf," he spat, "if it stood but a little higher from the ground."

Something within Legolas flared, and his bow was bent with an arrow aimed for the man's eyes before anyone could blink. "You would die before your stroke fell!" he growled, eyes burning. He didn't need this. The stress of the past few days, losing nearly all of his companions, and now this...this _mortal_ threatening to kill his friend? His fingers tensed.

Spears lowered quickly, hovering centimeters from the elf's head. Aragorn lowered Legolas's arm, pushing down gently to lower the tension. Legolas let his friend push down the weapon, but kept his eyes trained furiously on the leader of the horsemen. The spears were raised, and Legolas felt one graze the pointed tip of one ear.

"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn," Aragorn said carefully. "This is Gimli, son of Gloin, and Legolas of the Woodland Realm. We are friends of Rohan, and of Théoden, your king."

"Théoden no longer recognises friend from foe," the leader said, removing his own helm. "Not even his own kin." The last few spears were raised as the man tucked the helm under one arm. "I am Éomer, son of Éomund, Third Marshal of the Riddermark. Saruman has poisoned the mind of the king and claimed lordship over these lands. My company are those loyal the Rohan, and for that we are banished." He turned to Aragorn, his face tight and suspicious. "The white wizard is cunning," he said quietly. "He walks here and there, they say, as an old man, hooded and cloaked." He turned to Legolas, eyes narrowing and voice dropping. "And everywhere his spies slip past our nets." Legolas prepared to pull his bowstring back again, but Aragorn stepped in quickly.

"We are no spies. We track a party of Uruk-hai westward across the plain. They have taken three of our friends captive."

Éomer looked to him, face turning suddenly sympathetic. "The Uruks are destroyed. We slaughtered them in the night."

"But there were two hobbits. Did you see two hobbits with them?" Gimli broke in.

"And an elf?" Legolas asked quietly. "One of my kin?"

"The hobbits would be small," Aragorn added. "Only children to your eyes. The elf was dark-haired, but streaked with gold."

Éomer's face fell, and he set his jaw. "We saw no elves, nor children, and left none alive. We piled the carcasses and burned them." He pointed to a smouldering pile in the distance, set at the edge of a dark forest.

"Dead?" Gimli said, his voice hoarse with disbelief and grief. Legolas placed a hand on the dwarf's shoulder, appearing to comfort him but really trying not to stumble under the weight of his own grief.

The Third Marshal of the Riddermark nodded solemnly. "I am sorry. Hasufel! Arod!" He whistled, high and sharp, and two horses with empty saddles appeared at his side. One was white as snow, and nuzzled at the elf's shoulder. The other, a chestnut, stood quiet beside Aragorn. "May these horses bear you to better fortune than their former masters. Farewell." He mounted his own horse, but caught Aragorn's shoulder. "Look for your friends," he said quietly, "but do not trust to hope. It has forsaken these lands." To his riders, Éomer yelled, "We ride north!" before spurring his steed and leaving the three hunters with two horses and hearts heavier than ever.

Aragorn swung into the saddle and galloped towards the distant smoke, Legolas taking a moment to catch up after lifting Gimli onto Arod's back. They rode for a long time, none speaking or even looking to one another. Legolas knew that if he saw the hopeful look on Aragorn's face, he would shatter. The fact that the connection had gone silent terrified him, but he tried to remain calm as they arrived at the body pile.

A severed head greeted them, mounted on a pike. Its tongue hung out grotesquely, but it was nothing compared to the smell. Gimli rooted around in the remains with the end of his axe until he came up with a small belt, woven neatly with an empty sheath.

"It's one of their wee belts," he whispered.

Legolas fought to keep his composure. His ears burned as he muttered a prayer, " _Hiro hyn hîdh ab 'wanath."_ His voice cracked on the last word.

Aragorn aimed a ferocious kick at a nearby helm, which still contained its last occupant, sending it sailing down the slope. The man's yell of rage echoed across the plains and through the trees as Aragorn fell beside the pile of dead orcs.

"We failed them," Gimli muttered.

Legolas knelt by the bodies and continued to murmur prayers, voice ragged. " _Savo hîdh nen gurth. Nínion an gurth lîn. Nínion an gwannad lîn."_

Aragorn, however, did not appear to be concerned with the death of his three friends, but rather in the dust at his feet. "A hobbit lay here," he muttered. Gimli looked up. Legolas, though, did not want to hear the details of his sister's death. "And the other. And beside him, an elf." Aragorn stood and followed scuff marks in the dirt. "They crawled. Their hands were bound." He stooped and picked up a length of rope. "Their bonds were cut." Legolas looked up, then went to his friend's side as Aragorn searched the earth. "They ran over here, but they were followed." He stopped at a puddle of black blood, then continued to follow the tracks. "The tracks lead away from the battle," he called, running ahead. "...and into Fangorn Forest." He stopped at the forest's edge as the others caught up to him.

"Fangorn?" Gimli asked, giving a shudder. "What madness drove them in there?" A whinnying of horses came from where they had left Hasufel and Arod, but the horses were gone by the time Legolas came to where they had been left.

After the Sun had set, Legolas gazed up into the starry sky, heart and mind exhausted though his body was only slightly fatigued. He had tied Tirnel's scarf about his face to block the acrid smoke of the orcs and it had become damp, so he removed it, wrinkling his nose as the smell of roasted flesh hit him.

Aragorn was lying on his side, head propped on one hand, gazing into their little fire. Gimli snored just beyond the ring of firelight. " _Estel?"_ Legolas used Aragorn's childhood name, prompting the man to look up.

" _Las?"_ he replied, using the nickname that Tirnel had devised.

" _When Tirnel was in such grief...She told me why. She told me what happened that day."_ Legolas glanced over to his friend. The ranger had rolled onto his back and was gazing at the stars.

" _What had happened?"_

" _The elf she loved, Nemirdir...the Galadhrim went on a patrol. Seven died, including him."_

Aragorn sat up. "She did not tell us!"

Legolas shrugged sadly. "We left but two days after his death. She was still mired in grief."

Gimli snorted in his sleep. Aragorn lay back on the earth, passing a hand through his messy dark hair. "If only we had some sign. Some sign that they were not killed in the forest."

"The trees would be in uproar if an elf had been killed among them," Legolas pointed out.

"Aye, but what are hobbits to the trees?" Aragorn muttered.

"Sleep, Estel. The morning will bring new judgement, and we do need to rest." Legolas shifted so that he could keep an eye on the eaves of the forest.

Aragorn sighed. "I suppose you are right. Good night, Legolas. Wake me when it is my turn to watch."

"I will. _Good night, Estel."_

Early the next morning, Legolas woke the other two. Aragorn looked up blearily, then gasped.

"You didn't wake me for watch!" he said accusingly.

Legolas shrugged, feigning innocence. "Forgot to."

Aragorn groaned.

"Come on, what are we waiting for?" Gimli asked, ruffling his cloak for warmth.

Legolas flashed Aragorn an apologetic grin, then turned to face the trees. The man scoffed from behind him, then led the way into the dark trees.

The forest was dark, and rivalled Mirkwood for its level of foreboding. Legolas felt no fear beneath the trees, but was alert in case any orcs remained.

Gimli walked over to where a bush was stained with a dark liquid. He put one finger in it and tasted it, then spat. "Orc blood."

"These are strange tracks," Aragorn murmured, kneeling by an impression in the mud. Legolas peered over his shoulder and spotted the tracks of orcs.

"The air is so close in here," Gimli muttered.

"This forest is old. Very old." Legolas straightened up and looked around. "Full of memory and anger." A creaking echoed through the trees. "The trees are speaking to each other!" the elf realized.

"Gimli! Lower your axe," Aragorn warned. The dwarf lowered his large axe and glanced around, scared.

"They have feelings, my friend," Legolas said. "The elves began it: Waking up the trees, teaching them to speak."

"Talking trees," Gimli muttered. "What do trees have to talk about, hmm? Except the consistency of squirrel droppings."

Legolas moved to the top of a small knoll, skin prickling. " _Aragorn, nad no ennas,"_ he warned. A magic presence was moving quickly towards them through the woods as Aragorn appeared at Legolas's shoulder.

"Man cenich? _"_ he whispered.

"The white wizard approaches," Legolas breathed.

"Do not let him speak," Aragorn hissed. "He will put a spell upon us." All three of them raised their weapons, Legolas's fingers tensing on the bowstring. "We must be quick."

They attacked all at once, as a brilliant light shone from between the trees. Legolas dodged Gimli's thrown axe as it bounced off the light, and watched as his arrow shattered. Aragorn yelled in pain, and dropped his sword, which was glowing with heat.

"You are tracking the footsteps of your three young friends." The voice of the wizard boomed across the clearing.

"Where are they?" Aragorn yelled back.

"They passed this way the day before yesterday," the wizard said. Legolas felt an itch of familiarity begin in his mind. "The hobbits met someone they did not expect. Does that comfort you?"

"Who are you?" Aragorn yelled.

"What has happened to the elf?" Legolas added, noting that Tirnel had been left out of the wizard's assurance.

"Show yourself!" Aragorn called. The light faded to reveal Gandalf, dressed all in white and smiling benignly at the three of them. "It cannot be," Aragorn whispered, stepping forwards.

Legolas knelt, placing his bow on the ground. His mind was spinning with shock and confusion. "Forgive me. I mistook you for Saruman." Gimli bowed as well.

"I am Saruman," Gandalf answered. "Rather, Saruman as he should have been.

"You fell," Aragorn muttered.

"Through fire and water," Gandalf agreed. "From the lower dungeon to the highest peak I fought with the Balrog of Morgoth. Until at last I threw down my enemy and smote his ruin upon the mountainside.

"Darkness took me, and I strayed out thought and time. Stars wheeled overhead, and every day was as long as a life age of the earth. But it was both the end. I felt life in me again. I've been sent back, until my task is done."

"Gandalf," Aragorn repeated, still seeming dazed.

"Gandalf?" Gandalf said. "Yes. That was what they used to call me. Gandalf the Grey. That was my name."

"Gandalf," Gimli said, shaking his head and grinning.

"I am Gandalf the White," the wizard said. "And I come back to you now at the turn of the tide. One stage of your journey is over. Another begins. War has come to Rohan. We must ride to Edoras with all speed." He set off through the trees, the others quickly following him to the edge of the forest. Gandalf whistled loudly, making Legolas wince, but the elf's jaw dropped as he saw what was approaching them in response to the call.

"That is one of the _Mearas_ , unless my eyes are cheated by some spell," he whispered. The horse was magnificent, pure white and free of saddle or tack.

"Shadowfax," Gandalf said. He patted the horse's nose as Hasufel and Arod followed their lord towards the three hunters. "He is the lord of all horses and has been my friend through many dangers. Come." Gandalf mounted Shadowfax as Aragorn swung into Hasufel's saddle.

Gimli waited as Legolas gazed back into the trees. _**Tirnel could be in there somewhere,**_ he thought. He longed to go back and search further, but he could feel Gandalf growing impatient. Legolas heaved Gimli onto Arod's back, then climbed up himself. As Shadowfax galloped away, the other horses picked up speed to follow, allowing Legolas to glance behind one more time.

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Okay, a lot of things just happened. We are going to get through this. My Thanksgiving break is approaching next week, so I'll have time. Between you, me, and the Internet, next chapter is in a bit of a shambles. We might have to go on hiatus. BUT DO NOT FEAR. It will be as soon as I can post it. But I got most of these tranlations from www . real elvish . net, so check them out!

Sindarin translations

 _Hiro hyn hîdh ab 'wanath:_ Let them find peace in death

 _Savo hîdh nen gurth:_ Have peace in death

 _Nínion an gurth lîn:_ I weep for your death

 _Nínion an gwannad lîn:_ I mourn your passing


	4. Meeting With an Ent : Waking Moments

Hey all. It's been a wild time for me, and I'm really sorry to leave for so long. In this update, we get to see Tirnel again, yay! You'll also notice that I changed my screen name. Hope that didn't cause anyone any problems. On with the tale, my readers, and good luck!

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Merry reached into the collar of his coat, removing a scratchy bit of moss that had fallen from Treebeard's face as he spoke. "...I saw you shine upon a summer's day. Upon your head, golden braid the crown you wore, aloft such beautiful eyes."

"Is it much further?" Merry asked, suppressing a yawn.

"Burharhoom, don't be hasty. You might call it far, perhaps: My home lies deep in the forest, near the roots of the mountain. I told Gandalf I would keep you safe, and safe is where I will keep you. I believe you will enjoy this next one too; it's one of my own compositions.

"Beneath the roof of sleeping leaves, and the dreams of trees unfold, when woodland halls are green and cool, and when the wind is in the west, come back to me, come back to me, and say my land is best." As he finished, Treebeard looked over to the hobbits. Both of them were asleep. "Oh." He removed them from his branches and set them on soft grass, saying "Sleep, little Shirelings. Heed no nightly noise. Sleep till morning light." He straightened up. "I have business in the forest. There are many to call. Many must come. A shadow lies on Fangorn. The withering of all woods is drawing near." He walked away, muttering darkly to himself in Entish. Merry and Pippin noticed nothing, deep in slumber under the dark trees.

* * *

Stars floated through Tirnel's eyes as she woke. Her arms and legs were bound cruelly tight. There were two orcs and a man before her, huddled around a fire, over which they were cooking an arm that looked horribly human. The smell of roasting meat made Tirnel's stomach complain, but the pain in her head distracted her, making her groan.

The three figures looked over. "Well!" the man said, standing and approaching Tirnel. "Our little prize awakens at last. Should we offer her some food, boys?" The man laughed, and picked up what looked to be a finger on the end of a spit. It was still warm from the flames, and Tirnel recoiled. The finger fell into the dust.

One of the orcs grumbled, "Waste of a perfectly good finger, if you ask me." The other grunted in approval and went back to roasting the rest of the arm. Tirnel's throat burned as the smoke blew towards her, making her cough. She rolled over, so the would not have to see the orcs or the finger, still steaming in the dirt. A water skin landed next to her, and she reached for it before remembering that her arms were tied. The man chuckled before turning away, and after the orcs had put out the fire, she bit off the top of the water skin and drank.

Tirnel woke to a foot making contact with her ribs, just after she had managed to doze off. "Get up, scum," one of the orcs growled. "Mauhúr may want to keep you alive, but I can't see the point." A dark and jagged blade swung at her legs, severing the ropes around them and leaving a shallow cut.

She tried to sit up and winced as the ropes cut into her arms. The other orc stood, scowling down at Tirnel. She glared back at it, then spat. It growled furiously and kicked her in the mouth. She gasped in pain, lips bleeding. Running her tongue over her teeth, she assessed that all were in their proper places, and seemed to be unharmed. The iron taste of blood filled her mouth nonetheless, and she spat again on the ground, spattering the leaves with dark scarlet. Mauhúr stood as well.

"Don't hurt her too much, boys," he said, grinning nastily. "No good if she's all damaged, is she?"

The orc who had woken Tirnel snorted. "You men and your infatuation with elves. Kill 'em all, I say."

Mauhúr's smile fell. "Well, you rats are under my command now, so you won't be killing this one."

"Rat?! Take that back, scum!" the orc yelled, drawing its scimitar.

Mauhúr drew his sword faster than sight and slashed the orc's head. A screech rang through the forest as the body fell, twitching horribly. Tirnel winced as black blood spattered her face. A puddle of the blood was seeping towards her, but Mauhúr hauled her to her feet before it could reach her.

"You got anything to say?" He growled to the other orc, who turned away from the body. Mauhúr grinned and shoved Tirnel. "Walk." She stiffened as he ran his hand over her shoulder. "Walk or I'll carry you. And you won't like that." He chuckled as she shuddered involuntarily.

Tirnel held herself up as best as she could, head spinning. The orc was already far ahead, having tried to put great distance between itself and Mauhúr. The man laughed and shoved Tirnel again. She stumbled, regained her balance, and began to walk.

Two hours later, she was bound hand and foot again while the orc and Mauhúr rested. The orc had tied her ankles together, but hadn't done a terrific job: The rope was rotted, and Tirnel managed to break it after a few moment's silent struggle. Mauhúr's back was turned, and the orc was not in sight, so she pulled herself to her feet, arms still tied, and slipped into the trees.

* * *

Whoa! Cliffhanger. Man, this guy gives me the creeps. And I created him! Hate to leave you guys with such a thing on your minds, so... *****BONUS*****

* * *

The enraged yell of Mauhúr made Tirnel jump, but she kept going as best as she could. It was slower going than she would have liked, with no arms for balance, but she was making headway. She had just found a small cave when she heard the crashing of the underbrush behind her. Mauhúr's snarls reached her ears as she tried to melt into her surroundings, realising that her cloak was gone and pressing herself into the undergrowth. Mauhur burst through the trees behind her, panting and cursing. Tirnel held her breath and prayed that he would leave, but an icy chill ran up her spine as the man laughed, low and evil.

"You cannot escape, little one," he called. "I can see you." The four simple words made another chill run up Tirnel's back, followed by a thrill of horror as she was pulled out of hiding by the ropes binding her arms. "You think you're smart." Mauhúr wheeled her around and struck her across the face. She gasped in pain, lip splitting again. "You thought you could run." Another blow struck across her face. She didn't make a sound, but simply glared at Mauhúr with cold hatred. He chuckled and dragged her back towards the place where the orc was waiting.

"You got her?" it called, looking through the trees.

"No thanks to you, you rat! Look at the ropes! Rotted through, they are. I could breathe and they'd snap." Mauhúr shook the remains of the ropes before the orc's face.

The orc coughed, turning away. If orcs could turn red, Tirnel could have sworn that this one did. Mauhúr snorted disgustedly and reached for for a new coil of rope, turning to Tirnel with a nasty smile.

"That won't happen again, little one," he snarled. She spat at his feet, chagrined at being caught. He chuckled and wound the rope around her throat. "You'll learn some respect," he whispered, trailing one finger along Tirnel's cheekbone. She spat again, landing it on Mauhúr's nose. He looked quite comical, wiping it from his face, but Tirnel was unable to laugh. He growled furiously and cinched the rope tight. She gasped, her lungs panicking worse than when she had been drowning. Her knees turned to paper and buckled. The orc shifted uncomfortably nearby. Little lights were popping at the edges of Tirnel's vision. "Learn...some...respect," Mauhur hissed, cinching the rope tighter with every word.

She coughed, choking for air. Mauhúr's grim smile was all she could see, as greyish clouds floated into her eyes. Her eyelids flickered, a bright light seeming to fill her mind, then it was over. She was on her knees, feeling air burn into her flattened lungs. A ring of fire burned around her throat from where the rope had rubbed her skin raw. A roaring filled her mind, making her dizzy. The world fell sideways and she was down. Mauhúr laughed.

To the orc, he called, "See? That's how you get 'em. Gotta teach them discipline." He crouched next to Tirnel, who couldn't even muster up the resolve to scowl, much less to spit again. He gave a satisfied snort, then bound her legs tight, winding the rope around a nearby tree. Tirnel didn't even bother to fight: It was better if she just stayed quiet and played along. It burned her to admit it, but submitting was better than death.

* * *

Ha! Did you guys think I would leave you with that? You're welcome for the tantalizing bonus. And I hope to see a few reviews! No pressure, but they really make me happy. Doesn't have to be much; just a sentence would do. Love all of you.


	5. King of the Golden Hall

Hello...uh...hi. I know you might kinda want to kill me, but I did do a 6-month anniversary one-shot! It's called _I Miss Her_ , and the link is on my profile. Or, if you follow me as an author, you should have seen the email. But then again, I do not know your lives. Nor do you know mine, and my life has been the reason for my recent (unplanned) hiatus. This chapter isn't quite done, but I'll give you enough to tide you over for the holidays.

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After a few hours' gallop, Shadowfax slowed, nickering softly to Hasufel and Arod. Arod balked slightly at having to stop so suddenly, forcing Gimli to clutch Legolas's back tight, but Legolas patted his horse's neck and murmured to him softly. A hill rose before them, houses clinging to its sides like moss. At its summit stood a large hall, lavishly painted but starting to show signs of wear.

"Edoras," Gandalf said, "and the Golden Hall of Meduseld. There dwells Théoden, King of Rohan, whose mind is overthrown. Saruman's hold over King Théoden is now very strong. Be careful what you say. Do not look for welcome here." They set off again.

Outside of its doors, a woman stood. She was dressed all in white, her gold hair fluttering in the winds. Two poles flanked her, one with a banner still clinging on. As the three horses set off again, the wind caught hold of the banner and tore it away. Hasufel was spooked as it landed beside him, just outside of the city's gates. Aragorn patted him gently to calm him as they entered the city.

The huts were ramshackle and dull, leaning to one side as if they wanted to tumble down the slope. People watched as they ascended, all silent and dressed in black. "You'd find more cheer in a graveyard," Gimli muttered gruffly. Legolas glanced around, seeing the pale and sad faces of the villagers, and couldn't help but agree. All of them seemed to have suffered a dreadful loss. When they reached the hall atop the hill, the woman had vanished. A small group of armed guards met them at the doors, led by a man whom Gandalf seemed to recognize.

"I cannot allow you before Théoden King so armed, Gandalf Greyhame…" the guard paused, looking very much as though he had caught whiff of something unpleasant. "By order of Gríma Wormtongue."

Gandalf frowned, but nodded to his companions. Legolas unsheathed his twin blades, spinning them so that the hilts landed in the guard's palms. Tirnel's knives were in Arod's saddlebag, but he unsheathed Variele and set it in the hands of the guard who held his knives. Gandalf smiled as Gimli reluctantly released his axe.

"Your staff," the guard pressed.

"Oh, Háma. You would not part an old man from his walking stick?" Gandalf asked, acting offended and elderly. The guard's lip twitched, but he let them enter. Legolas offered his arm to Gandalf, who took it, winking. Aragorn smirked as they passed the doors.

The hall was dark and depressing, the great doors thudding shut behind them. Legolas glanced behind at the group of men that were sneaking along behind the pillars. Aragorn and Gimli walked to one side of a large fireplace as Legolas led Gandalf around the other. At the end of the hall, there was a plinth on which a throne stood. A wizened old man sat there, and a younger man who looked like a greasier version of Alfrid, a man of Laketown that Legolas had met some years ago.

"The courtesy of your hall is somewhat lessened of late, Théoden King," Gandalf called.

The king lifted his head, which seemed to take a great deal of effort. "Why...should I...welcome...you, Gandalf...Stormcrow?" he asked, looking up at the greasy man as he spoke.

"A just question, my liege," the man whispered. He straightened and approached Gandalf. "Late is the hour in which this conjurer chooses to appear. Láthspell, I name him; ill news is an ill guest."

"Be silent! Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth," Gandalf snapped. "I did not pass through fire and death to bandy crooked words with a witless worm!" He raised his staff, which before had been hidden behind his cloak.

"His staff," Wormtongue hissed, hastily backing away. "I told you to take the wizard's staff!"

The men who had been lurking charged suddenly, but they were unarmed. Legolas dove into combat, striking the man who was foolish enough to approach him.

Gandalf approached the throne. "Théoden, son of Thengel! Too long have you sat in the shadows."

Legolas took care of two others before turning back to Gandalf. A man tried to catch him from behind, but he flung up his right fist and smirked as the man's nose cracked under it. Wormtongue tried to scramble from the hall, but Gimli planted a foot on his back. "I would stay still if I were you," the dwarf hissed.

"Hearken to me!" Gandalf said. The king shrunk away from the wizard, but Gandalf continued to advance. "I release you…" a burst of magic filled the room. "From the spell."

The king began to shake, making a strange wheezing noise. Legolas frowned as he realised that the king was laughing at Gandalf. "You have no power here, Gandalf the Grey."

Gandalf cast off his cloak, glowing brightly with magic in the dim hall. The king gasped, thrown back against his throne.I will draw you, Saruman, as poison is drawn from a wound," Gandalf said. He struck the air before the king with his staff, throwing the king back against his seat.

The woman who had stood outside the hall ran towards the king, but Aragorn caught her. "Wait," he whispered.

The king squinted up at Gandalf, an ugly sneer twisting his features. "If I go, Théoden dies!" the king growled, his voice suddenly that of Saruman.

Gandalf retorted by stabbing his staff out before him again. "You did not kill me; you will not kill him!"

"Rohan is mine!" Saruman snarled, straining the king's body against Gandalf's magic.

"Be gone!" Gandalf commanded, holding his staff before him like a spear. The king yelled and tried to lunge toward Gandalf, but Gandalf yelled back and hit the king squarely in the forehead.

Many miles away, Saruman was thrown away from his palantir, a burn growing across his forehead.

The king groaned as Gandalf stepped back, panting from magical exertion.

Aragorn released the woman, who rushed forward, catching the king before he fell. Grey hair was replaced by gold as the wrinkles faded, and in the place of a withered corpse-like man, a strong man sat. He reached forward and took the chin of the woman in his hand. "I know your face," he whispered. "Éowyn? Éowyn." The woman nodded, clutching the king's hand, tears brimming in her eyes. He looked at Gandalf, who stepped back with a wan smile. "Gandalf?"

"Breathe the free air again, my friend," Gandalf said.

The king stood, unsteady on his feet, but Éowyn supported him. "Dark have been my dreams of late," he whispered, moving his fingers as though they were stiff.

"Your fingers would remember their old strength better if they grasped your sword," Gandalf said, nodding towards Hama, who held a scabbard.

The king unsheathed the sword and gazed upon it, eyes wide. Then his sight shifted to Gríma, still held fast by Gimli. The greasy man tried to escape but was caught by the guards, carried out of the hall, and tossed down the steps, the king in hot pursuit with his sword. Gandalf pointed at the door and went through it, accompanied by the rest of the guards, Gimli, Aragorn, and Legolas.

"I've only ever served you, my lord!" the wretched man cried, trying to get up from the landing on which he had come to rest.

Théoden continued to approach as Grima scrambled backwards. "Your leechcraft would have had me crawling on all fours like a beast!" the king snarled.

"Send me not from your side!" Wormtongue begged, continuing to hurry backwards. The villagers were clustering around the base of the stairs, boxing him in.

Théoden raised his sword, and was about to strike when Aragorn caught him by the arms, staying his blade. "No, my lord! No, my lord. Let him go. Enough blood has been spilled on his account."

The ranger reached down to Wormtongue, but the foul man spat on Aragorn's outstretched hand before standing and shoving his way through the crowd. "Hail, Théoden King!" someone called, and the villagers knelt. Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli bowed, but Gandalf muttered that he would become stuck if he tried to kneel.

Théoden didn't seem to notice this, but was looking around, confused and still angry about Grima. "Where is Théodred?" he called, tuning about to lookup at the hall where Éowyn was standing. "Where is my son?" Her face had gone as pale as her dress.

Later, Legolas watched as the body of the prince was carried from the hall on the shoulders of six men. Aragorn and Gandalf followed the bereaved king as he walked behind the body. Legolas walked beside Gimli as they approached the tombs, where Éowyn and other women waited. As the prince's body was placed in the grave, Éowyn began to sing a lament. Her voice was strong, though she faltered as the door was closed on the body.

After the funeral was over, Aragorn returned to the hall with Gimli and Legolas, though Gandalf and the king remained by the tomb. In the large hall, Legolas placed his back to a pillar near to the table where Gimli and Aragorn sat, smoking and eating. The hall was near empty, but the doors burst wide suddenly as Gandalf and the king entered, Gandalf bearing a small child in his arms. A younger child gripped the hem of the king's cloak as they approached. Legolas stepped forwards and took the unconscious boy from Gandalf, placing him on a bench at a nearby table. The little girl sat beside the boy, who must have been her brother.

"Éothain," she whimpered. "Wake up!"

The boy did not stir. Aragorn stood and began trying to wake him, taking several leaves of athelas from his pocket and passing them under the child's nose. The child gasped and sat up, then cried, "The orcs! The village! Freda, where is mama?" The little girl began to cry.

"They had no warning!" Éowyn snapped. The children were eating bowls of stew at the table, both looking as though they hadn't had a decent meal in a few days. "They were unarmed. Now the wild men are moving through the Westfold, burning as they go." her voice dropped. "Rick, cot, and tree."

"Where is mama?" Freda asked, looking up at Éowyn as the woman draped a blanket over the children.

"Shh," Éowyn whispered.

While Éowyn soothed the children, Gandalf pulled Legolas aside and handed him a cloak very like the one that the elf wore then, but smaller and stained with scarlet. _Tirnel's_ cloak. Legolas looked into the wizard's face, panic threatening to break through the thin walls of his composure, but Gandalf raised a hand. " _I believe that she is alive,"_ he muttered.

" _How came you by this?"_ Legolas hissed. His hands shook slightly as his fingers passed over rips in the hem.

" _It was in a clearing, close to where I found you. There were signs of a struggle, and these."_ He unwrapped two little silver knives from the cloak, both stained with black blood. " _Keep hope, and do not ignore your connection,"_ he whispered before walking over to a seat at the king's side.

Legolas walked back to Aragorn's side and set the cloak and knives down upon the bench. He would think about them later, but Gandalf's voice was raised.

"This is but a taste of what Saruman will unleash," the wizard snapped, gesturing to the children. Théoden's head was sagging, and his face was haggard and pale. "All the more potent now for he is driven by fear of Sauron. Ride out and meet him head on. Draw him away from your women and children. You must fight!"

"You have two thousand good men riding north as we speak," Aragorn put in. "Eomer is loyal to you. His men will return and fight for their king."

Théoden stood and stormed across the hall, saying, "They will be three hundred leagues from here by now. Eomer cannot help us." Gandalf advanced on the king, but the king cut him off. "I know what it is you want of me, but I will not bring further death to my people. I will not risk open war."

"Open war is upon you, whether you would risk it or not!" Aragorn snapped.

Théoden crossed the hall to where the Ranger sat in a few steps. "When last I looked, Théoden, not Aragorn, was king of Rohan."

Aragorn looked stonily back at the king, letting no expression cross his face. Gimli drained his tankard, letting loose a small belch and breaking the tension.

"Then what is the king's decision?" Gandalf asked.

"We ride for the Hornburg," the king replied.

A man ran through the village, calling to its residents. "By order of the king, the city must empty! We make for the refuge of Helm's Deep! Do not burden yourselves with treasures. Take only what provisions you need.

"Helm's Deep!" Gimli scoffed. He and Aragorn, Legolas, and Gandalf were heading for the stables. "They flee to the mountains when they should stand and fight. Who will defend them, if not their king?"

"He is only doing what he thinks to be best for his people," Aragorn said. "Helm's Deep has saved them in the past."

"There is no way out of that ravine," Gandalf interjected. "Théoden is walking into a trap. He thinks he's leading them to safety. What they will get is a massacre." They had reached Shadowfax's stall, and Gandalf spoke directly to Aragorn. "Théoden has a strong will, but I fear for him. I fear for the survival of Rohan. He will need you before the end, Aragorn. The people of Rohan will need you. The defenses have to hold."

Aragorn nodded. "They will hold."

Gandalf turned to Shadowfax. "The Grey Pilgrim. That's what they used to call me. Three hundred lives of men I've walked this earth, and now I have no time." He mounted the horse lord as Aragorn opened the stall's door wide, stepping back. "With luck, my search will not be in vain. Look to my coming at first light on the fifth day. At dawn, look to the east."

Aragorn nodded. "Go." Shadowfax whipped by Aragorn, nearly plowing into Legolas and Gimli as he sprinted away.

Back in the hall, Éowyn took a sword out of a trunk and held it before her. She swung it, advancing on an invisible opponent. She whirled around and the blade locked against another: Aragorn was holding his curved dagger aloft, and he held it there. "You have some skill with a blade," he told her. She spun the blades about, driving his off. The point of her sword hovered above Aragorn's chest as the Ranger held his hands at shoulder height.

"Women of this country learned long ago," she said, walking back to where she had left the sheath, "women without swords can still die upon them. I fear neither death nor pain."

"What do you fear, my lady?" Aragorn asked softly.

"A cage," she replied. "To stay behind bars until use and old age accept them. And all chance of valor has gone beyond recall or desire."

Aragorn shook his head. "You're a daughter of kings. A shieldmaiden of Rohan. I do not think that will be your fate." He bowed his head and left her standing by her sword.

Outside, the long line of people was led by Théoden, cloaked in green. As he rode further away from his city, he looked back at it. The line of people was long and slow, a stream of dark dots fleeing the , he spurred his horse and rode on.

* * *

Well, they're off to Helm's Deep. Tirnel is alive! Legolas knows that now, and won't give up hope of finding her. (He will find her, of course, but in what condition?) This was a very rough chop, so be prepared for a rough entry on the next chapter. Love you all, sorry for the hold-up, and happy holidays!


	6. The March to Helm's Deep

OH MY GOD YOU GUYS I AM SO SORRY. T~T I am so so so sorry. Because I have been such a massive jerk, you're getting a double dose.

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"Théoden will not stay at Edoras," Grima said. He had just arrived at Isengard, and was speaking with Saruman. "It is vulnerable; he knows this. He will expect an attack on the city. They will flee to Helm's Deep, the great Fortress of Rohan. It is a dangerous road to take through the mountains. They will be slow. They will have women and children with them."

Saruman went down into the crevices under Isengard, to speak with his orcs. "Send out your warg riders!" he ordered. The orc minding a pit of wargs smiled maliciously as the howls of of dogs echoed around the cavern.

* * *

"It's true: You don't see very many dwarf women," Gimli told Éowyn. She was leading Arod while Legolas scouted ahead. The march was passing around a small lake on their way to Helm's Deep, and it was slow going. "And in fact, they are so alike in voice and appearance, that they're often mistaken for dwarf men."

Éowyn turned back to Aragorn: He stroked his own chin, mouthing 'it's the beards.' She stifled a laugh and faced front again.

"Now this in turn has given rise to the belief that there ARE no dwarf women! And that dwarves just spring out of holes in the ground!" Éowyn laughed aloud at this. Gimli laughed too. "Which is, of course, ridiculous." His horse suddenly whinnied and broke free from Éowyn, scampering ahead with a hollering Gimi just clinging on. He fell off after a few meters, and Éowyn rushed to his side. "It's all right, nobody panic!" Gimli said, trying to sit up. "That was deliberate. It was deliberate." She helped him and caught Aragorn's eye, smiling. Aragorn grinned back.

That night, Aragorn sat and smoked his pipe, keeping watch while the others slept. He passed watch over to Legolas, who smirked as Aragorn fell asleep. He was probably dreaming about Arwen, judging from his look of loneliness when he woke.

During that day, Aragorn walked beside Éowyn. She looked to the pendant on his chest. "Where is she?" Éowyn asked. Aragorn looked over as she clarified. "The woman who gave you that jewel?" Aragorn's eyes clouded as he remembered his words to Arwen: _It was a dream, Arwen._ "My lord?" Éowyn asked.

"She is sailing to the Undying Lands, with all that is left of her kin," Aragorn answered sadly.

Éowyn instantly turned away, cheeks colouring. Aragorn, back in his memories, did not see. Two scouts galloped by, passing beside Legolas, who stood on a hill, eyes searching the lands.

The scouts stopped a ways ahead, their horses balking. "What is it?" Legolas heard one of them ask. "Háma?"

"I'm not sure," Háma replied.

A second later, the screech of a warg announced the foul creature and its orc rider as they careened down an outcropping of stone. It pounced on Háma, who was immediately killed in the warg's jaws. The other scout yelled in terror and rage, drawing his sword and engaging the orc. Legolas ran forward and shot the warg, his hand that had held the arrow already gripping the hilt of one knife.

The orc's shriek as Legolas killed it echoed back to where Aragorn walked beside Éowyn. He ran ahead to the edge of the ridge where the orc had attacked. "A scout!" Legolas yelled to him, shoving the carcass away.

Aragorn turned back to the king, who had approached. "What is it? What do you see?" Théoden called.

"Wargs!" Aragorn yelled back. "We're under attack!"

The people erupted into panic, clustering together and screaming, while some of the riders tried to get them away. Aragorn ran back to his horse and mounted, Éowyn stepping back as she let go of the reins. "All riders to the head of the column!" Théoden yelled, turning and waving an arm to the riders. He approached Éowyn. "You must lead the people to Helm's Deep, and make haste."

"I can fight!" she protested.

"No!" Théoden growled. "You must do this, for me." She turned without a word. "Follow me!" Théoden called.

Gimli was assisted onto his horse by a few soldiers, then made his way to the front where Legolas stood, shooting orcs down from hundreds of feet away. He caught hold of Arod's saddle and swung up, landing in front of Gimli as they charged.

The orcs were many, all riding terrible wargs and brandishing harsh weapons. Legolas pulled back another arrow, aiming for the orc directly in front of him.

The first connection was bloody and grim. A warg hit a horse teeth-first, knocking both of them and their riders to the ground. Some of the riders threw spears while others attacked orcs that they passed. Legolas shot another, but there were still many.

Gimli gave a yell as Arod leapt over a fallen orc, and he landed on the ground behind the horse with a thump. Legolas looked back, unable to turn his horse in time. He spun around as Gimli was readying his axe for a warg that was eyeing him malevolently.

"Bring your pretty face to my axe," the dwarf growled.

Legolas drew his bowstring back as the warg charged, killing it just before it reached his friend.

"That one counts as mine!" Gimli yelled after the elf, outraged. Another warg ran up behind Gimli, and he killed it with a yell of mad glee. Unfortunately, it landed on top of him, pinning his body beneath its massive flank, his axe still buried in its head.

Aragorn slaughtered an orc on warg-back as he rode through the battle, passing Théoden as the king sent an orc's head sailing away from its neck. An archer shot a warg and was reloading his bow when he got stampeded by a warg. Aragorn took care of the orc responsible as he went by.

"Stinking creature," Gimli snarled, trying to heave the warg off him. An orc appeared above him,hissing as it drew a long knife. Gimli yelled right back and snapped the orc's neck. It too fell on top of him, crushing him further into the grass. He took one whiff of the orc and groaned. He lifted both the orc and warg, grunting with exertion, but his eyes widened as another warg appeared atop the dead orc and warg. Aragorn saw this and hurried over, snatching a spear from a warg carcass and skewering the warg that was menacing Gimli. It died with a shriek and fell, making Gimli yelp in pain as the combined weight of two wargs and an orc fell on him.

Aragorn killed two orcs with a yell, then was knocked off his horse as a warg leapt into him. He scrambled to his feet as the warg turned, its rider swinging a knife. Aragorn grabbed orc's arm and swung on behind it, knocking the orc's head with his own to make it fall. It didn't, and Aragorn was dislodged by a passing rider. He gripped the saddle with one hand, knife held aloft in the other as he tried to free his caught arm. The orc screamed and tried to stab Aragorn, who managed to stab it first and throw it off the warg, which was galloping full tilt towards the edge of the cliff. Aragorn, now perfectly desperate, tried to climb atop the warg, but he kept losing his grip. The warg was going faster than ever, and Aragorn's arm was caught in the saddle. The cliff was getting closer, the bumping of the ground under him becoming more frenzied as the warg sped up, but Aragorn could not get up. The ground was replaced by air as eh and the warg went over.

Above, the battle was ending. Gimli killed a warg with a grunt, then looked around at the dead and dying. Too many wore the colours of Rohan.

Legolas was walking among the bodies, glancing from left to right, the fire of battle still hot within him. It was replaced with a freezing trickle of fear, though, as he searched for a familiar face. "Aragorn!" he called, looking around as if the man were hiding under the carcass of an enemy.

Gimli, too, looked around. The man was simply not among them. "Aragorn?" the dwarf yelled.

Legolas approached the cliff, his heart beating faster as he examined the ground, the trickle of panic becoming a rush of cold water. A wheezing laugh came from behind him. An orc, clearly at death's door, was lying a few feet away, one hand clenched tightly. Black blood oozed from his mouth as he laughed.

Gimli held his axe over the orc's face. "Tell me what happened, and I will ease your passing," he growled.

"He's...dead," the orc hissed, coughing on its own blood. "He took a little tumble off the cliff."

The panic froze into icy fury as Legolas stooped and grabbed the orc's armour. "You lie!" he snarled, eyes burning like blue fire. The orc laughed again, breath coming short as its lungs filled with black blood. It ceased moving, and Legolas cast it aside in disgust. He noticed as he did that the orc's hand was clenched. He unwrapped the fingers from around something silver-white and shining. It was the pendant given to him by Arwen, shining coldly in Legolas's numb hand.

Refusing to believe it, even though his heart was screaming in grief, Legolas ran to the edge of the cliff where Théoden stood, looking downwards. The ravine's bottom was a fast-moving river, bristling with rocks. Eyes searching, Legolas tried to trick himself into believing that a Dúnadan, or even a regular mortal, could survive such a fall.

"Get the wounded on horses," Théoden called. "The wolves of Isengard will return." His voice dropped. "Leave the dead." Legolas turned quickly, outraged and glaring at the king. Théoden looked back at him grimly, placing a hand on the elf's shoulder. "Come," he said gently. Legolas turned to look back into the ravine, Gimli at his side. No words were said, but Legolas knew he and Gimli were thinking the same thing: _**It's impossible. Not Aragorn.**_

Up ahead, the rest of the people of Edoras had reached Helm's Deep. Many of them cried out in joy and relief as they sighted the mountain fortress. One of the women gripped Éowyn's arm happily. "We made it, milady!" she said. Éowyn smiled, but thought grimly But _**at what cost?**_

The fortress was full of people already, all milling about and waiting for their fellows. It was a majestic and beautiful place, carved out of the mountainside and big enough to hold Rohan's many people. Down in the bowels of the fortress, the children Freda and Éothain ran with a scream of "Mama!" to a woman who knelt before them, arms open. They hugged her tearfully as the last of the riders approached.

"Make way for Théoden! Make way for the King!" a man yelled as Théoden rode by. Legolas was close on his tail, eyes still seeing the cliff and ears still full of the orc's words. Éowyn hurried towards them, eyes full of hope, though her face remained tense.

"So few," she murmured. "So few of you have returned."

Théoden dismounted and said, "Our people are safe. We have paid for it with many lives," as his niece scoured the riders for Aragorn. Legolas lifted Gimli down as she spoke again.

"Lord Aragorn," she said. Legolas could hear the rising panic in her voice as she turned to the king. "Where is he?"

Théoden did not answer as he turned away, but that was answer enough. "My lady," Gimli said, grief in his voice. "He fell." Gimli's voice broke.

Legolas turned away, feeling his chest burn with grief and rage. He wished dearly for an orc to appear, so it could feel what the elf was feeling. He would carve carved it into pieces slowly, hitting each cut after it had been made. He needed to release the fury within him, the fury that stemmed mainly from the stubborn bit of him that screamed that Aragorn _was not dead,_ and how stupid the king was for thinking so. Did not Legolas know the foolish ranger better? Had he not seen the man come back from worse situations with a silly grin on his face? He half-expected the man to come waltzing in that moment, an easy grin playing across his face.

"Draw all our forces behind the wall," Théoden said. He was standing atop the Deeping Wall, pride of the fortress. "Bar the gate, and set a watch on the surround."

"What of those who cannot fight, my lord?" one soldier asked. "The women and the children?"

"Get them into the caves," Théoden replied. Saruman's arm will have grown long indeed if he thinks he can reach us here."

* * *

Part one of the I AM SO SORRY chapters! Oh man, you guys, I really am so sorry. I hate Finals Week. Also, wow Legolas! You need anger management.


	7. The Armies of Isengard

Part two of the PLEASE FORGIVE ME chapters! We get to reunite with our troubled heroine. **WARNING:** Elf torture ahead. For the more sensitive readers, please continue with caution.

* * *

Tirnel's vision was cloudy as she struggled to keep up with Mauhúr and the orc. They laughed every time she stumbled, pulling her off balance with the lead-rope that they had tied about her throat. One particularly violent jerk brought her to her knees, coughing.

"Get up!" Mauhúr yelled, kicking her in the ribs. She curled up with a small moan, pain radiating throughout her torso. Mauhúr growled, grabbing a handful of Tirnel's tunic and dragging her into a sitting position. The orc chuckled as Tirnel struggled to stand, her legs shaking. Dehydration was making her weak and shaky, and her head pounded as she tried not to faint. "Alright then," Mauhúr said, and picked her up as though she were a sack of potatoes.

Tirnel's eyelids drooped and she fell into a stupor as her captors marched along, but woke suddenly as Mauhúr threw her to the ground. Smoke burned her eyes and lungs as she looked around, rocks digging into her back. Many orcs swarmed around her as they rushed off to various tasks, entering and leaving deep caverns that rent the ground, filled with torch-light and the sounds of forging.

A tall black spike of a tower stretched towards the sky, appearing ghostly and sinister through the smoke. A man dressed all in white was standing at its base, and he swept towards Mauhúr as Tirnel managed to shift onto her knees.

The man's face was aged, but the swiftness with which he bore down upon Tirnel betrayed no feebleness. He was carrying a staff of black metal, at the end of which was a milky orb. He crouched by Tirnel, beady black eyes boring into her. "I said take the Halflings, and to kill the others!" he snarled.

"We wanted a bit of sport," Mauhúr said, licking his lips.

"Well, then take her!" the man spat. "I have no time for foolish interruptions." He rose and walked back towards the tower, muttering angrily about incompetent fools.

Tirnel saw her only chance of survival slipping fast, and she called out frantically, "I know what it is you seek! I have seen it!"

The man froze, then turned slowly. "And what," he began, "could an elfling tell Saruman of Many Colours?"

Tirnel hesitated, then said, "I will tell you, if I am taken away from these foul creatures." Mauhúr growled and made to kick her in the ribs again, but Saruman held up a hand.

"Very well, child," he said softly. "I will grant you request." He flicked a hand to Mauhúr, who dragged Tirnel upright and followed as Saruman went back inside his tower. He crossed the floor inside the tower, opening a door on the other side. It led into dark, steep stairs descending into the ground. The orb at the end of Saruman's staff lit, glowing brightly as he walked down the stairs. Mauhúr hefted Tirnel up onto his shoulder, so he could follow behind Saruman. Before long, they came to a second door, which Saruman unlocked with magic before continuing. The next section of stairs was steeper than the last, made of uneven stones, slippery and sticky.

At the bottom of the stairs, a row of foreboding metal doors loomed out of the dark. Saruman walked up to the nearest and pushed it open, releasing a metallic scent, heavy and thick with neglect. At this point, Tirnel's panic, which had been climbing ever since they had passed through the first door, broke. She struggled to escape, but only managed to fall off of Mauhúr's shoulders. He snarled and grabbed her arm, dragging her into the cell. She saw dark, sticky puddles spotting the floor, shimmering in the faint light. Saruman pointed to a set of rusty manacles dangling from the far wall, and Mauhúr shoved Tirnel towards them. She tried to squeeze past Saruman and escape, but Mauhúr pinned her to the wall and fastened the metal around her wrist. He snatched her other arm and did the same before standing, grinning horribly.

"I shall see exactly how much you know tomorrow, for I have much to do today that does not involve you," Saruman said. "As you asked, you shall be quite alone here. Good night." He turned and left, Mauhúr chuckling nastily behind him.

Tirnel winced as the door slammed shut, then let her head rest against the damp stones of the wall. The weight of the past few days fell upon her with the force of a dwarf's hammer, and a few tears leaked out of her eyes. Ordinarily, she would have bitten her lip and blinked, effectively vanishing all traces of weakness, but now she let the tears fall.

Above her, in Saruman's study, Gríma was telling the wizard of the mountain fortress. "Helm's Deep has but one weakness," he said. "Its outer wall is solid rock, but for a small culvert at its base, which is little more than a drain."

"Good," Saruman replied. He was pouring a grey powder into a large spiked orb, filling it with the strange sand.

"How?" Gríma asked suddenly. "How can fire undo stone? What kind of device could bring down the wall?" He leaned over the orb, candle perilously close to the sand.

Saruman grabbed his arm. The strange sand had already destroyed a number of things when exposed to fire, and he did not want to waste time nor energy cleaning up after the weapon. "If the wall is breached, Helm's Deep will fall." He strode towards the balcony that had once overlooked a beautiful tree-lined path.

"Even if it is breached, it would take a number beyond reckoning, thousands, to storm the Keep!" Gríma whined, following the wizard.

"Tens of thousands," Saruman agreed.

"But, my lord, there is no such force!" Gríma cried as the wizard stepped out onto his balcony. Below them were hundreds upon hundreds of orcs, stretching out over the grounds of Isengard. The roared in recognition as Saruman appeared. Gríma completely dumbfounded in his wake. The wizard raised a hand to quiet them.

"A new power is rising!" Saruman called. "Its victory is at hand." The orcs yelled in approval. "This night," Saruman yelled, "the land will be stained with the blood of Rohan! March to Helm's Deep! Leave none alive!" The orcs screeched, clashing shields and howling in glee. Deep below them, Tirnel looked up to her shaking ceiling, wearily wondering what doom lay above. "To war!" Saruman yelled, raising his arms in triumph. Unnoticed by Saruman, a tear slid down Gríma's face as he learned the fate of his homeland. The army screamed its approval and began to leave. "There will be no dawn for men," Saurman said quietly.

Smiling malevolently, Saruman went to see Tirnel. She was bouncing her fist on one knee, letting off nervous energy that she hadn't know that she had.

"Well, little elf," he said. "I hope you will cooperate." Mauhúr entered the cell, followed by a few orcs. The man grinned nastily at Tirnel. She did not allow her face to betray any other emotion than stony indifference and hatred, and merely listened as Saruman continued. "You have told me that you have seen what is seek, and that you know what it is. But I must verify this. Tell me, what is it that I seek?" He smirked as Tirnel faced him.

"You seek that which would bestow upon you ultimate power," she said cooly. "You seek the One."

Saruman seemed startled for half a second, then smiled. "Quite so, elfling. Where have you seen it, and who carried it? I do know it was a Halfling."

Tirnel closed her mouth tight.

"I have a feeling that this little jewel is not showing us all of her facets," Saruman said silkily. Tirnel did not respond, though she wanted to curse at him in all tongues known to men, elves, and dwarves. "I believe that some...drastic measures may have to be taken," the cruel wizard continued. "For her information is vital to us."

The orcs around the wall growled as Tirnel felt unbridled panic filling her chest. In Saruman's twisted views, 'drastic measures' could involve anything from her being violated to being tortured to within an inch of her life, and anything in between. Mauhúr stepped forwards, holding in his filthy hands a whip and a small leather pouch.

 _ **By Elbereth,**_ she thought. _**Salt. There's salt in there.**_ She nearly sobbed aloud, half in fear and half in relief that it was not worse.

"Now, let us begin," the wizard said. Another orc pulled Tirnel's boots off, followed by her stockings. "If you do not answer satisfactorily, then you will be tortured by Mauhúr. Though I am merciful: I will only have your legs whipped, both to preserve your dignity, and to punish you for your earlier escape attempt. Where is the One Ring?"

"I do not know," Tirnel said, truthfully. She had no idea where Frodo and Sam were.

"Hmm. We will have to work on your answers, my dear." Saruman signalled to Mauhúr. He growled and set down the salt, then raised the whip and brought it down on Tirnel's legs.

She stifled a cry as the pain rippled up her legs and through her body. It felt as though fire had been held to her legs, which had long red welts on them.

"Now, I ask again. Where is the Ring?"

"I do not know," Tirnel repeated. The whip landed again, this time breaking the skin. Blood spattered Tirnel's face as she tried not to cry out. A small moan of pain slipped by her lips, and Saruman smiled.

"A pity," he murmured, "that one so fair must be...broken." He made a gesture, and the orc kicked her in the ribcage. She gasped and rolled over, exposing the backs of her legs, still free from harm. "Tell me where the Ring is, and we will stop. You will be taken care of. Just tell me where it is."

"No," she growled. "I will not let the world end by my hand."

"I feel that you may need to use that whip, Mauhúr," Saruman snapped. "Elves who do not cooperate are punished," he added to Tirnel, who glared at him with burning defiance.

Mauhúr grinned horribly, and brought the whip down on the elf's legs again. Tirnel gave a sharp cry of pain, eyes tight shut and a tear falling. An ugly whip-wheal spanned both of her legs, raised slightly and burning scarlet.

"The Ring!" Saruman growled, patience waning fast.

"Never!" Tirnel hissed, eyes burning through the tears.

Saruman brought his arm down in a motion very like the one that Mauhúr made a moment later, ripping through Tirnel's skin. She choked on the pain, throat closing suddenly and more tears burning her eyes.

"I would hate for you to be further injured," Saruman whispered, leaning down to speak in Tirnel's ear. "If you would only tell me where it is…"

"Never," Tirnel repeated, voice hoarse with pain.

"Now that is a pity," Saruman purred. He stood back as another orc approached, this one with the salt-pouch. Tirnel gasped and tried to move, but her legs flared in pain. The orcs laughed cruelly, one of them pinning Tirnel's arms to the wall. The others watched as the orc with the salt took a pinch from the leather bag. It slowly and deliberately placed the salt into one of the gashes on Tirnel's left leg, then pushed the small crystals deep into her flesh.

The pain was like nothing Tirnel had ever felt before. It burned and pierced, streaking up her spine and down her other leg, racking her whole body with lightning-bright pain. A cry was torn from her lips, ragged and broken. It was not a wordless scream, but a curse that made Saruman laugh. He crouched by her side, placing his hand under her chin and forcing her to look up into his dark eyes.

"We need not to be going through this, my dear," he murmured. "Just tell me-"

"NEVER!" Tirnel's cry was the loudest yet, causing Saruman to recoil from her. He stood tall, an evil smirk spreading slowly.

"The whip, Mauhúr," he said to the man with the whip. He snarled his approval, slinking forwards, bringing the whip down harder than ever and breaking the skin again. Scarlet blood ran down Tirnel's legs, pooling under them and painting her flesh. She choked again, trying not to give in to the pain that was driving her almost past endurance. _**You can get through this,**_ she thought, eyes catching on her ring from the Lady, her eyes filling with tears unrelated to the pain in her legs. _**Do it for the hobbits. You sacrificed yourself for them. Do it for Iowen and Helegon, maybe already married. Do it for the memory of Nemirdir.**_

The salt pressed agaist into her wounds, making her sob in pain. The orcs laughed. Through a haze of pain, she heard Saruman say, "The Ring. Tell me."

"No," she moaned. The whip landed again, crushing the salt further into her flesh. More salt was ground in as she cried out in pain.

"The Ring."

"No."

The whip landed; the salt poured on. The cycle repeated itself until Mauhúr ran out of salt. He threw the empty pouch onto the stones, now covered in Tirnel's blood.

"Well, elleth, we seem to have run out of salt. Now, I am afraid I will use magic to give you an incentive," Saruman said, flicking a spot of her blood off his cloak.

Tirnel barely heard him. She was immobilized and deafened by the pain, hearing only her blood rush and pound through her head. She lay on her back, quite incapable of movement or speech at the moment. Saruman was grinning over her, until his eyes went as wide as full-moons and he lunged for her throat. She vaguely felt his fingers at the back of her neck before he straightened up, clutching something gold in his hands.

"So," he began, voice shaking. "You killed the Halfling and took the Ring. You have just turned the tide of the war, my dear." He laughed and strode out of the dungeon, the orcs following him. The cell was empty before Tirnel could register fully what had happened, still being dazed with pain. She reached up to find that her mother's chain had been unclasped and that the false Ring had been taken. She let her head fall back with a sigh of relief and fell asleep instantly.

* * *

Miles away, Treebeard walked through Fangorn. As he crested a small hill, Pippin scrambled higher in his branches. "Look! There's smoke to the south!"

"There is always smoke rising from Isengard these days," Treebeard replied.

"Isengard?" Merry repeated.

"There was a time when Saruman would walk in my woods," Treebeard said as the hobbits climbed higher for a better view. "But now he has a mind of metal and wheels. He no longer cares for growing things."

Merry was looking south, the wind blowing the sound of distant horn blasts toward him. "What is it?" Pippin hissed.

"It's Saruman's army," Merry replied weakly. The black carpet of orcs stretched for what seemed like miles, still issuing from the gates of Isengard. "The war has started."

* * *

Whoa. That was heavy. Leaving you guys with these two mongo chapters is what I will have to do for a while. I'm sorry! But I will get my ass in gear on typing up the next. I know these probably weren't worth the wait, and I'm really sorry if I've disappointed you. I love you all, and I hope you stick with me!


	8. Hiatus Notice (I'm sorry!)

So...hey guys. I know I've been slacking, and I have no excuse but school and extracurricular stuff. So, unfortunately, we are going on a small hiatus. And to all my guest reviewers, it makes it easier for me to thank you personally if you leave a name. It doesn't have to be anything specific, just like..applesause56 or something. Something to distinguish you by. Now, if you want to know a big reason I'm taking a break, here's the stuff I have to write for an application:

Applicants to the Creative Writing Program must submit completed application and teacher recommendation forms and upload the following REQUIRED ASSIGNMENTS:These assignments aren't tests. There is no right answer. As you work through your assignments, rather than turn to a thesaurus, ask yourself the following questions:  
What is your language? What are the words you use with your friends, your family, and in your private thoughts? What are the stories you want to tell? What are the stories you grew up with? What are your obsessions and preoccupations? What makes you want to write?

A. Personal Statement: This is your opportunity to thoughtfully tell us about you and why we would select you for CSSSA. Why do you write? What do you want to learn? What kind of writing excites you most? Who are your favorite writers? Include writers you have discovered outside of school. Tell us why you love them and what you have learned from them. (Limit: 200 words / double-spaced.)  
B. Memoir: Reflect back on an incident in your life — small or large — and write about how it impacted you and who you have become. The reflection should be about a brief incident, no more than an hour, and should happen in one place. (Limit: 300 words / double-spaced.)  
C. Dramatic Writing: Write a two-person scene in play format in which one character tries to get something from another character: $20, a family heirloom, forgiveness — anything as long as it's specific. Only use a few slight stage directions. (Limit: 300 words / double-spaced.)  
D. Prose Fiction:Write a piece of flash fiction — a story under 500 words — in the category of speculative fiction where settings and stories are created out of your imagination rather than from reality (e.g., fantasy, sci-fi, magical realism). (Limit: 500 words / double-spaced.)  
E. Poetry: Write a poem inspired by music, a work of art or your favorite book. This poem may or may not rhyme. (Limit: 1 page / single-spaced.)  
OPTIONAL ADDITIONAL ASSIGNMENT:  
Your own work: Submit some of your fiction, poetry, or memoir. Excerpts from longer works are acceptable. Do not include school assignments, essays or journalism. (Limit: 2 pages / double-spaced.)  
RETURNING STUDENTS ONLY:  
If you previously attended CSSSA, upload your answer to the following question: What did you learn rom your time at CSSSA?What do you plan to do with your four weeks if you return?  
In addition, if you attended CSSSA in a different department, one of your recommendation letters must be from a former CSSSA instructor.  
PLEASE NOTE:  
1\. Parents and teachers are not to edit or collaborate with the writer. Perfection is not the basis for admission; the panel will evaluate the intent, talent and creativity of response demonstrated by the applicant in the required assignments. Any suggestion of adult input will negatively influence the panel's decision and hurt the applicant's chances of admission.  
2\. All assignments must be typed or neatly hand-written, double-spaced and free of errors, and on separate pages. All entries must be typed in 12 pt. Font, with 1- inch margins. No fancy fonts please. Include your name and the proper assignment letter (A, B, C, D, E, or F) on each page.  
3\. Assignments will be uploaded once the application is complete. Please save your assignments with your first initial and last name followed by the appropriate letter for each of the submission. For example, John Smith would save his work as follows:

jsmith_A  
jsmith_B  
jsmith_C

So, that's a lot of stuff. I'll see you on the other side of this, and I promise that you will get chapters within the next few weeks! Love you all, bye!


	9. Aragorn Returns

I'm back! I'm sorry for being gone for so long, and I'm probably going to have to be gone for a little longer, but I finished that application and sent it! I'm not sure when I'll know, but I really want to get in! In other news, I've begun re-posting the first story, up to chapter seven. If you wanna check it out, I'm not stopping you. I'm burning the original story, though, so tell me quick if there's anything you want me to save for you.

* * *

The swift waters of the Anduin have seen much since their creation. As they hurried through Rohan, a man floated among them. Aragorn was unconscious, but lay spread-eagled on the water's surface as its current deposited him upon the shore. His head bumped over rocks, but he did not wake as the river swept past. Somehow, his sword rested in its sheath, but the knife that he had held was gone.

He lay on the shore, seeming dead, for a long while. He had an wound on his arm, and the fall had not done him any good. The river passed by, quite unconcerned.

The crunch of gravel reached Aragorn's ears, but he did not stir. _Probably some orc, come to finish me off,_ he thought miserably. _They'll have an easy time of it._

A snort came from right above his ear, and soft lips flapped at his hair and face. The horse above him pushed him onto his side with its nose, still snuffling at the man's hair. " _Brego,"_ Aragorn whispered. Somehow, the horse had followed him and found him at the bottom of the ravine. Brego whickered at him, kneeling in the gravel to allow Aragorn to get on.

That proved to be a slow process, as Aragorn discovered his various injuries from falling off a cliff into a river. Eventually, Brego stood with Aragorn draped over his back, and they began to climb back out of the ravine. They galloped across the plains of Rohan, heading for Helm's Deep. They passed the site of the battle, the dead bodies beginning to smell, but met nothing, living nor dead, for a long while.

As they crested a hill, Aragorn pulled Brego to a stop. A mass of orc foot-soldiers was spreading across the plain like ink over a sheet of cloth. The pounding of their feet echoed back to Aragorn, even through the wind, and a horn sounded high over the march. Horrified, he spurred Brego into a run, and rode on before the orcs could spot him.

Early the next morning, he arrived at Helm's Deep. " _Well done, Brego my friend,"_ he murmured to his horse. Brego whickered tiredly and trotted toward the fortress.

Inside the Hornburg, Legolas was furious. He wanted nothing more than to find Gimli and Arod, heave the dwarf on, and go looking for his friend -he refused to think 'friend's _body'_ -, preferably stopping to throttle the king first. He paused in his pacing for a moment, then thought that he might change the order of his plan. He set off for the king's hall, knives twitching in their sheathes as he strode up several staircases.

He heard someone outside yell, "Open the gates!" It piqued his curiosity, but he ignored it and continued to climb. He thought he heard Gimli yelling something from the gates, but he ignored that too.

Once at the doors to the king's hall, Legolas paused. His father would not be happy with him murdering a fellow king, and nor would Aragorn. Legolas scowled and turned away from the doors, only to find himself face-to-face with a ghost.

Aragorn smiled at the elf, as if he had only hidden himself to annoy Legolas. The elf smiled back, rage and vindictive feelings toward the king disintegrating as he looked into his old friend's grey eyes.

" _Le abdollen,"_ he commented wryly. He looked at Aragorn's various injuries, wondering how many times the stupid, reckless man would survive stunts like that. "You look terrible."

Aragorn grinned as they clasped each other's shoulders in greeting. Legolas held out his hand. In it lay the Evenstar, pendant of Arwen. The man's face went slack as he lifted it from the elf's palm, gazing at its crystal and silver. Legolas smiled. He had kept it in an inner pocket since retrieving it from the orc, and now it was back in the hands of its rightful owner.

" _Hannon le,"_ Aragorn whispered, clutching the pendant in his bloody hand. Legolas nodded as, unseen by either of them, Éowyn watched them with despair written in her fair face.

In the king's hall, Théoden was speaking with his advisors. He looked up, though, as Aragorn pushed the doors wide. Legolas followed him, thinking affectionately that the he certainly knew how to make an entrance: Limping and bloody, his hair stringy around his exhausted face, Aragorn strode as well as he could up to the king.

"My lord, I was not killed by the fall, but we have more pressing matters to attend to," Aragorn said quickly, raising a hand to cut off Théoden before he spoke. "A great host of orcs is coming to Helm's Deep."

"A great host, you say?" Théoden asked after a moment. He stood and began to pace.

"All Isengard is emptied," Aragorn confirmed.

"How many?"

"Ten thousand strong, at least," Aragorn answered grimly.

Théoden turned, face ashen. "Ten thousand?"

"It is an army bred for a single purpose," Aragorn said. "To destroy the world of men." Théoden grimaced, trying to fathom this doom, but Aragorn spoke again. "They will be here by nightfall."

"Let them come!" Théoden spat. He strode from the hall, people parting before him. Legolas and Aragorn followed, joined by Gimli as they walked through the fortress. "I want every man and strong lad able to bear arms to be ready for battle by nightfall," Théoden said to a captain. He came upon the great doors, which were being fortified by soldiers, and passed through them. "We will cover the causeway and the gate from above," Théoden continued, pointing up to the higher fortress. "No army has ever breached the Deeping Wall or set foot inside the Hornburg!"

"These are no rabble of mindless orcs," Gimli said. He was standing back from the king, feet planted firmly on the ground as he held his axe before him. "These are fighting Uruk-hai. Their armour is thick, and their shields broad." Aragorn winced, recalling the time he had been pinned to a tree by one of those shields.

"I have fought many wars, Master Dwarf," Théoden snapped, "and I know how to defend my own keep." He strode angrily past Gimli, back into the fortress. Aragorn followed the king, placing a hand on Gimli's shoulder as he passed.

The king climbed a flight of stairs, coming out onto a pathway that circled the inner fortress. "They will break upon this fortress like water on rock," he said loudly, smiling confidently at the soldiers he passed. "Saruman's hordes will pillage and burn; we have seen it before. Crops can be resown, homes rebuilt! Within these walls, we will outlast them."  
"They do not come to destroy Rohan's crops and villages," Aragorn said, lagging behind the king on pained legs. "They come to destroy its people, down to the last child!"

Théoden stopped, turning quickly on Aragorn with blazing eyes. "What would you have me do?" he growled, leaning into the other man's face. "Look at my men; Their courage hangs by a thread. If this is to be our end, I would have them make such an end as to be worthy of remembrance."

Théoden walked away, but Aragorn called him back. "Send out riders, my lord. You must call for aid."

"And who will come?" Théoden hissed, returning to Aragorn. "Elves? Dwarves?" He jerked his chin in the direction of Legolas and Gimli. Gimli could not hear what was being said, but Legolas bristled with indignation. "We are not so lucky in our friends as you. The old alliances are dead."

Gondor will answer," Aragorn said firmly.

"Gondor?" the king snarled. "Where was Gondor when the Westfold fell? Where was Gondor when our enemies closed in around us? Where was Gon-" Théoden broke off. He took a deep breath, then looked back into Aragorn's face. "No, my lord Aragorn," he whispered. "We are alone." He gave Aragorn a last scathing look, then strode away. "Get the women and children into the caves!" he called to one of his men.

"We need more time to lay provisions-," the man started.

"There is no time!" Théoden snapped. "War is upon us."

The man nodded and turned to another soldier, saying "Secure the gates."

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War is upon us! That is bad. I'm afraid it'll be a little while before we hear from Tirnel again, but rest assured we will hear of her pretty soon, I guess. If that's what you really want. We don't have to; I can just...crop her out of the rest of the story...ha, I'd never do that. I'm evil. But really guys, I'm sorry for leaving. Don't forget to check out the reposted chapters, and pop out a few lines down below!


	10. Entmoot, part one

I'm back! I finished reposting the original story, so poke your eyes at it. Here's a chapter!

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Deep in Fangorn, Merry and Pippin still rode high in the branches of Treebeard. Both hobbits had been disturbed by the army from Isengard, though each showed it differently.

"We ents have not troubled about the wars of men and wizards for a very long time," Tree bead said. He had walked into a sunny clearing, and stood at its center. "But now, something is about to happen that has not happened for an age: Entmoot." He raised a mossy arm and gestured around the clearing.

"What's that?" Merry asked.

"'Tis a gathering," Treebeard replied.

"A gathering of what?" Merry asked, looking around the now rustling clearing. His question was answered for him as the trees of the clearing's border came to life. They formed a ragged ring around Treebeard and his passengers, all different and all strange.

"Beech," Treebeard greeted them. "Oak. Chestnut. Ash. Good. Good, good. Many have come." Merry and Pippin gaped around the circle, eyes wide and mouths hanging open. The ents watched them with the same curiosity. "Now we must decide if the ents will go to war," Treebeard told the hobbits. Merry grinned, imagining what an ent would to to an axe-wielding orc.

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That...was a small chapter. Sorry.


	11. The Battle of Helm's Deep, part one

Okay, **Narylfiel** , that review was so cute I had to get you another chapter. And this one is reeeeeally long, so hooray!

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"Move back! Move to the caves!" A man yelled to the women, children, and elderly from atop the fortress' wall. The mass of people below began shuffling forward, making for the dark mouth in the side of the mountain. Some looked up to the dusky sky, wondering if they would ever see it again.

The caves were vast: Unmined crystals and springs shone in the light of torches as the people grouped themselves inside. Their voices were hushed, but for the occasional cry of a child or sob of a woman.

Theoden's men were ruthless in their task. Old men, grandfathers time and again, were pulled from their places on the floor and brought to the armoury. Boys who had not even a trace of hair on their faces were taken from their crying mothers, some pleading or hiding, others grey-faced and silent.

In the depths of the armoury, Aragorn examined a sword that was to be given out. He eyed it critically, then gave back to a guard. Legolas was leaning against a pillar nearby, shoulders protected by brown leather and knives still ringing from being sharpened.

"Farmers, farriers, stable boys," Aragorn said grimly. "These are no soldiers."

"Most have seen too many winters," Gimli said from where he stood, hands gripping his axe.

"Or too few," Legolas muttered. Aragorn nodded. A few of the men still wore bandages from their last battle. "Look at them," Legolas continued. "They're frightened. You can see it in their eyes." Many of the men fell silent, watching the strange elf in the corner. " _And they should be,"_ Legolas said, switching to Sindarin so that the men would not understand. " _Three hundred, against ten thousand!"_

" _They have more hope of defending themselves here than at Edoras,"_ Aragorn replied, also using Sindarin.

" _Aragorn, they cannot win this fight,"_ Legolas said, stepping towards his friends and lowering his voice. " _They are all going to die!"_

"Then I shall die as one of them!" Aragorn yelled, abruptly breaking back into Common Tongue. The men around Aragorn drew back, the room going suddenly and completely silent. Aragorn looked around, then stormed from the armoury.

Legolas made as if to follow him, but Gimli caught his leg. "Let him go, lad," he muttered. "Let him be." Legolas looked after his friend, though, wondering if this might be the last battle of the Dúnadan.

Night was falling around Helm's Deep. "Every villager able to wield a sword has been sent to the armoury," a guard told Theoden. The king was standing in his hall, gazing at the tapestries on its walls. "My lord?" the guard asked softly when Theoden did not reply.

"Who am I, Gamling?" Theoden asked hollowly.

"...You are our king, sire," Gamling replied, seeming a little shaken by the question.

"And do you trust your king?" Theoden asked, still not turning.

"Your men, my lord," Gamiling said, picking up the king's armour, "will follow you to whatever end."

"To whatever end," Theoden whispered. He continued to put on his armour, Gamling assisting him, and muttering all the while. "Where is the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing? They have passed like rain on the mountains. Like wind in the meadow. The days have gone down in the West, behind the hills: into Shadow." He finished chanting, then stood in his full armour, still staring at the tapestries. "How did it come to this?" he asked.

Out on the walls, soldiers were calling directions to one another, scrambling like ants to defend their halls. Men toted pillars of wood to fortify the gates, some carrying torches to light the way as they ran. Aragorn sat on the wall's edge, watching the activity and frowning slightly at two boys who stood near a burning brazier. They looked no older than thirteen, and were looking at their swords as if they would rather be anywhere else. One of them, unhelmed and grimy, looked over to where Aragorn sat. He turned away quickly, but Aragorn called to him.

"Give me your sword."

The boy jumped, then gingerly handed over the sword.

Aragorn took it. "What is your name?" he asked, running practiced fingers along the blade.

"Haleth, son of Háma, my lord," the boy said. Aragorn remembered vividly Háma's lifeless body in the jaws of a warg. "The men are saying that we will not live out the night." Aragorn looked up, the memory of Legolas's fear still fresh. "They say that it is hopeless."

Standing, Aragorn raised the blade. It shone dully in the torchlight around him, and he swung it a few times. Haleth stepped back, for fear of dismemberment, but Aragorn returned the blade to him. "This is a good sword." Haleth took it and looked at it himself, as Aragorn leaned forward, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Haleth, son of Háma: There is always hope."

In his chambers, Aragorn began suiting up for battle. He put on a coat of mail under his leather jerkin, buckling the belt with his curved dagger about his waist, then reaching for his sword. He found that it was being held out to him by Legolas.

"We have trusted you this far," he said quietly. "You have not led us astray. Forgive me. I was wrong to despair."

Aragorn placed his hand on the elf's shoulder, grinning gently. " _There is nothing to forgive, Legolas,"_ he said. Legolas smiled in return, gripping the man's shoulder also.

Gimli came in, struggling with a mail shirt. "If we had time, I'd get this adjusted," he muttered angrily. The hem of the shirt fell from his hands and pooled on the floor about his feet. Aragorn grinned. "It's a little tight across the chest," Gimli grunted. Legolas seemed about to reply, but a horn sounded outside, stopping him short. "That is no orc-horn!" he cried, and ran out of Aragorn's room. The man was close behind him, dragging a still-muttering Gimli behind him.

Outside, soldiers clustered at the walls, looking down to the causeway at the source of the horn-blasts. "Send for the king!" one said. "Open the gate!"

This call was repeated as a large contingent of elves approached the heavy gates, all clad in grey cloaks, gold helms shining in starlight. Each carried a longbow before him, and each were beautiful beyond the imaginings of men. They carried banners signifying their country, though these meant little to the men of Rohan. The gates swung open, the men gaping as the elves passed them. Most of them had never seen any elf but Legolas, and watched in awe as the elves marched into the Hornburg.

Theoden arrived, descending the stairs with a face like his men. An elf clad in a cloak of red with no helm stepped forward. He placed a hand to his chest, in the elvish way, and Theoden repeated the gesture. "How is this possible?" he asked, gazing around at the second army that now filled his fortress.

"I bring word from Elrond of Rivendell," Haldir said, for Haldir it was. "An alliance once existed between elves and men. Long ago, we fought and died together." Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli appeared at the top of the stairs, all three grinning as though Haldir were the Lady of Lorien herself. "We come to honour that allegiance."

" _Mae govannen, Haldir!"_ Aragorn said, stopping at the base of the stairs and placing a hand to his chest. "You are most welcome." Haldir smiled, then blinked in shock as Aragorn hugged him. He returned the embrace, then took Legolas's forearm in a traditional greeting. The soldiers behind Haldir snapped to attention at the sight of the prince, who gave a gentle wave of the hand to put them at ease.

"We are proud to fight alongside men once more," Haldir said to Theoden, his face betraying the flickering of a smile.

Not more than ten minutes later, the elves were arrayed along the walls, prepared for battle. All was silent, but for the wind or clank of a weapon. "You could've picked a better spot," Gimli growled to Legolas, hopping on his toes to see over the wall.

Presently, the sound of many marching feet began to fill the valley. Dim torches spotted the sea of oncoming darkness that seeped across the valley's floor, the pounding of harsh feet on the ground mingling with shouts of commanders within the massive army. The clamor and vibrations reached the caves below, where the women and children glanced fearfully at the ceiling. Aragorn slipped between the ranks of elves and men to Legolas's side.

"Well, lad," Gimli said. "Whatever luck you live by, let's hope it lasts the night." Lightning flashed in the sky, reflecting off of the elves' bright armour and shining dully on that of the orcs. Rain began to fall, tinkling gently on armour and shields as it fell. Legolas thought of how in any other place, he would be greeting the rain with his face upturned to it in joy. His stomach turned as he realized that somewhere, an elf might be doing just that, oblivious to all that was happening in the valley.

"Your friends are with you, Aragorn," he said, not taking his eyes from the oncoming army.

"Let's hope they last the night," Gimli added, clutching his axe-haft. Aragorn briefly held both of his friends' shoulders, then walked away into the ranks of men and elves.

The orcs continued to advance, making no cry of war, except to egg on their own soldiers, and seemed to bleed into the darkness; infinite and deadly and inescapable. Legolas chanced a glance behind him, and his stomach turned again at the sight of barely two rows of soldiers behind himself.

" _Show them no mercy,"_ Aragorn called, walking between the lines. " _For you shall receive none!"_

An orc clambered to the top of an outcropping of stone, and raised its scimitar with a yell. The soldiers stopped marching, about four hundred feet from the wall. The armies watched one another, both silent but for the grunts that orcs seem incapable of holding back.

"What's going on out there?" Gimli asked, beginning to hop again.

"Shall I describe it to you?" Legolas asked. "Or would you like for me to find you a box?"

Gimli laughed.

The orc atop the rock spire gave another yell, and the army of foul creatures began beating their spear ends against the earth. The noise was as if another army had begun marching, and the people in the caves looked up, startled. Aragorn drew his sword. The archers responded to the unspoken command, each setting a bow to their string. The rain, still falling in sheets, made the arrows slick and the men's fingers cold. One of the older men, unable to hold his arrow back any longer, released it with a gasp. The arrow flew straight, hitting an orc in the front row right in the neck.

" _Hold!"_ Aragorn yelled, wheeling upon the archers, who immediately let the tension leave their strings. The orc gave a gurgling hiss, then collapsed.

The orcs looked among themselves for a moment, stunned by the sudden attack, then bellowed their displeasure. The commander on the rock screeched and thrust his sword forth, signaling a charge. The army rushed forward in disarray, all howling and hissing.

"So it begins," Theoden muttered.

" _Prepare to fire!"_ Aragorn yelled. The archers returned their arrows to the strings, some elves, Legolas included, laying an extra beside the first.

" _Their armour is weak at the neck and beneath the arm,"_ Legolas said, watching his chosen target draw nearer.

" _Release arrows!"_ Aragorn yelled, bringing his sword down.

Hundreds of arrows soared through the air, cutting down the first few rows of orcs. "Did they hit anything?" Gimli called, still hopping on his toes.

"Give them a volley," Theoden said.

Them men released their arrows, not flying nearly as far or as fast as did those of the elves, but cutting down a few orcs here and there. Aragorn repeated his call, and another wave of arrows soared out, released by a group of elves positioned behind the wall and out of sight from the orcs.

"Send them to me, come on!" Gimli yelled, angry to be left out.

The orcs were now tripping over their own dead and wounded, seeming driven by sheer hate towards the impassive wall. Crossbows were raised from among the seething mass, their bolts flying up at random. An elf beside Legolas crumpled with a yell, one of the bolts having hit its mark in the elf's helm. Another elf toppled from the wall, screaming in terror as he fell towards the points of spear and sword below. More bolts came, knocking a few elves down behind the wall, tumbling down its stone steps.

Orcs rushed to the front of their lines, carrying ladders that they shoved into the gravel before the wall and tilted against it.

Aragorn noticed and called, " _Ladders!"_

"Good!" Gimli bellowed. The archers turned their attentions to the cruel devices, shooting at the orcs that were already flocking to them.

"Swords! Swords!" Aragorn yelled, readying his own. The elves drew their long blades, and Legolas drew Variele. The ladders landed against the wall, hooks falling and catching on the stone. An orc was poised at the top of a ladder, but was cut nearly in two by Gimli's axe. The dwarf yelled with mad glee and began to attack the other orcs behind the first. Too many elves were falling to the harsh scimitars, however, and Legolas burned with hatred as his fellows collapsed around him. Another elf fell from the wall with a scream, landing among the orcs, who sprung upon him with evil joy.

Aragorn ran through the battle, trying to reach his friends: Gimli slid between an orc's feet and swung at its belly gutting it. Legolas was swirling through the orcs and elves, Variele's blade shining like a blue star.

"Legolas!" Gimli yelled, at a momentary respite. "Two already!"

"I'm on seventeen!" Legolas yelled, beheading an orc with a fluid move that somehow allowed him to grin at Gimli.

"What?" Gimli yelled, outraged. "I'll have no pointy-ear out scoring me!" He roared in fury and disemboweled an orc in one strike.

Legolas sheathed Variele and shot another two orcs and called to Gimli, "Nineteen!"

Gimli growled again and fought to join Legolas so as to check his count.

Aragorn slaughtered an orc atop a ladder, sending it plowing through the orcs behind it, then unhooked the ladder from the wall and threw it back. It cut a swath into the army, and the orcs howled in fury from below. Still more ladders went up, and elves and men still fell from the wall.

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Wow, the battle has begun. I'm going from movie, so there won't be any Tirnel for a while. Sorry. Keep your heads up and your eyes peeled! And follow **Narylfiel** 's example and review! They got a special shoutout because of awesomeness. THIS COULD BE YOU!

Until next time.


	12. Entmoot, part two

Wow, it's been a while. No excuses, I am just a miserable shit. Heeeeeeeere' your chapter!

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Night had fallen over Fangorn as the ents conferred, and Pippin paced among the swaying tree people as they spoke in their strange language. Treebeard suddenly turned away from the circle, plodding over to where the hobbits were.

"Merry," Pippin said, stopping his pacing and looking up into the ent's face.

"We have just agreed," Treebeard said.

Merry and Pippin looked at each other, for the ent did not continue, appearing to doze off. "Yes?" Merry prompted.

"Oh. I have told your names to the Entmoot, and we have agreed: You are not orcs!" Treebeard seemed very proud, and the other ents behind him nodded.

"Well, that's good news," Pippin said.

"And what about Saruman?" Merry asked, frustrated. "Have you come to a decision about him?"

"Now, don't be hasty, Master Meriadoc," Treebeard said, waving a large leafy hand at the hobbit.

"Hasty?" Merry snapped. "Our friends are out there! They need our help! They cannot fight this war on their own."

"War? Yes," Treebeard agreed. "It affects us all. But you must understand, young hobbit," he continued, leaning down to Merry. "It takes a long time to say anything in Old Entish, and we ents do not say anything unless it is worth taking a long time to say."

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Man, poor Merry. Since it took me about five tries to write "miserable" up there, I think I'll leave it here for tonight and GET SOME SLEEP.


	13. The Battle of Helm's Deep, part two

Battles! Excitement! Exhaustion! - which is what I have...zzz...

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"Seventeen!" Gimli stood atop the Deeping Wall, axe throwing orcs back into their fellows as he counted aloud. "Eighteen! Nineteen! Twenty!" He continued his assault on the orcs scaling the ladders as Aragorn turned his attention to the causeway.

A phalanx of orcs were advancing along it, their shields acting like a shell as they huddled together. Missiles launched from the fortress bounced harmlessly away, leaving the sides of the phalanx unprotected. "Causeway!' Aragorn yelled to the elves, and they turned their fire. The orcs on the sides fell as they were hit, but the dwindling phalanx continued.

Up in the fortress, Théoden chuckled grimly. "Is this it? Is this all you can conjure, Saruman?" Unbeknownst to him, orcs were crowding around the wall's culvert, hauling Saruman's spiked spheres containing the fire-sand into the pipe. Several of the spheres had already been placed as an orc ran towards the wall, carrying a strangely white torch.

Aragorn caught a glimpse of this as he fought, shoving his dying opponent aside to watch the lone torch-bearer. Unease pierced his adrenaline, and he yelled to Legolas. " _Bring him down, Legolas!"_ The elf loaded his bow and shot. The arrow struck the orc's shoulder, but it ignored the injury. " _Kill him! Kill him!"_ Aragorn yelled, but Legolas was unable to: The orc threw itself forward into the culvert, still bearing its torch.

A sound like that of thunder shook the stones of the wall, then threw them into the sky as a child does to flower petals. Smoke billowed from where the wall had stood, a gaping crater where the Hornburg's greatest defense had been.

The battlefield fell silent for a few moments, as all realized what had happened. Aragorn blinked dazedly, having been thrown from the wall. Legolas wiped blood off his face before becoming aware that it was not his. Gimli groaned and sat up. Théoden, slack jawed and horrified, looked at the remains of his people's safety.

Already the orcs were taking advantage of this destruction, and were charging up the newly widened culvert. On the causeway, a battering ram was being brought up, knocking orcs off if they were in the way. Théoden turned on the spot, helpless and still in shock. He came to his senses and yelled "Brace the gate!"

Down below, soldiers threw themselves against the gate, holding it shut as on the other side, the metal-and-wood battering ram slammed into the gate.

Soldiers above opened doors in the top of the fortress, raining spears and stones upon the orcs. "Hold them! Stand firm!" Théoden yelled.

Behind the remains of the wall, Aragorn was still trying to make sense of the sudden disappearance of the wall. He did not see the orcs approaching him, but Gimli did. "Aragorn!" The dwarf leapt down from the fragment of wall that still stood, right into the oncoming orcs. They caved under the armour-clad dwarf, but quickly regained stance as Gimli landed in the water.

"Gimli!" Aragorn yelled, standing and struggling towards the dwarf, but instead threw himself aside. The second group of elves that had been positioned behind the wall had their bows drawn, and quickly took out the offensive orcs that were advancing on Aragorn and Gimli. " _Charge!"_ Aragorn yelled, signalling with his sword. The elves drew their own swords and ran forth.

On top of the wall, Legolas threw a shield down the stairs, leaping onto it and riding it. He shot two orcs, then kicked the shield into the throat of a third. At the bottom, he stabbed an orc with an arrow before using the arrow to shoot.

Gimli surfaced with a spluttering yell, and Aragorn hauled him upright as they fought to return behind their lines.

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There we go. Nice long chapter, complete with explosion and shield-surfing. Review please, I'm dying of tired.


	14. Entmoot, part three

HOW DID I NOT SEE THIS AND PUBLISH IT WEEKS AGO I'M SO SORRY. It's short, but it is something, and I wish that I was able to write more often. However, I do have some wonderful news! Remember all that stuff I had to write, the stuff i showed you in the hiatus note? It was for a summer program, and I GOT IN! I'M SO HAPPY! **xEruphadrielx** , you were right!It's a month of creative writing in southern California, and _I cannot wait._ I won't be able to write for you while I'm there, though, so I'll be sure to build up a big chunk to publish before I leave. Anyway, here's the little chapter!

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"The ents cannot hold back this storm," Treebeard said. "We must weather such things as we have always done."

"How can that be your decision?!" Merry yelled, shaking off Pippin's hand on his arm.

"This is not our war," Treebeard growled.

"But you're part of this world!" Merry cried. "Aren't you?!" The ents shuffled among themselves, looking from one to another. "You must help," Merry said. "Please: You must do something."

Treebeard leaned down once more to Merry's level. "You are young and brave, Master Merry," the ent said kindly. "But your part in this tale is over. Go back to your home."

Merry said nothing. Pippin handed him his coat as he put on his own, then spoke cautiously. "Maybe Treebeard's right. We don't belong here, Merry: It's too big for us. What can we do in the end? We've got the Shire. Maybe should go home."

Merry sighed. "The fires of Isengard will spread, and the woods of Tuckborough and Buckland will burn, and…" he turned to face Pippin. "And all that was once green and good in this world will be gone. There won't be a Shire, Pippin." He turned away. Pippin let him go, trying hard not to visualize the world Merry had described.

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I'm sorry for delaying all of you, and I will definitely post again soon. Like, next Monday at the latest. Now, I know I don't deserve any reviews/love from you guys, but it would make me so happy. Until next time, which I hope will be soon.


	15. The Battle of Helm's Deep, part three

I'm back! I told you I'd do it, and I can't quite believe it myself. (between you, me, and the internet, i'm writing this bit before i actually finish the chapter so i'm taking a risk. living on the edge! exciting!) Anyway, here's your chapter!

 **WARNING:** Elf death. **foofie01,** I'm sorry. I told you I would warn you when I was about to kill of a _certain character,_ so be prepared.

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The battle was not going well. Legolas stowed his bow and drew his knives, killing an orc with each as they were unsheathed. Gimli dismembered an orc with a mad yell, then went after another. Aragorn killed a particularly ugly orc, then heard his name being called from above. "Aragorn!" Théoden yelled. "Fall back to the keep! Get your men out of there!"

Aragorn nodded, then turned and repeated the call in Sindarin. " _Na barad!"_ Haldir looked over, and Aragorn yelled again. " _Haldir, na barad!"_

Haldir nodded, finishing his opponent and pulling one of his soldiers aside to gather the others. " _Na barad! Na barad!"_ He did not see the orc raising its scimitar behind him, did not hear Aragorn's yell of warning. He gasped as his armour split, his cloak darkening, and he fell to his knees. The faces of the elven dead swam before him. Elves he had known, had trained, had loved, all were lying dead. Aragorn yelled wordlessly, sprinting to the Marchwarden's side and cradling him as he slid sideways, grey eyes already empty but for unshed tears. Another elf ran up, her dark hair plastered to her face by blood and sweat, and her eyes widened as she saw who Aragorn held. She gasped, then gave a yell of rage and grief as she hacked away the orcs that were advancing.

Aragorn's tears fell as he gave his own yell of rage, punching an orc in the face and taking its place atop a ladder. He thrust the ladder back into the army, riding it down and jumping off before it hit.

The main gate cracked into countless pieces, the spiked end of the battering ram gutting a man and forcing the rest back. "Brace the gate!" one man screamed, but he fell as a crossbow's bolt hit him, the orcs having thrust as many weapons through the hole as they could.

"Hold them!" another man yelled, cutting a few orcs back.

Ip on Theoden's perch, the king readied his weapon. "To the gat. Draw your swords!" he yelled, storming towards his soldiers. Hid guards followed him, grim-faced.

Aragorn had discovered a staircase that let him return to the safer side of the wall, shunting a few soldiers before him as he ran. The archers, still unable to see extremely well in the dark and chaos, did their best to hit foes rather than friends.

Theoden, as a shining example for his men, had run to the very front of the struggle at the gate and killed a few orcs before one of them thrust its spear at him. It caught his armour and pulled him back a few paces, where he was caught by his guards, who pulled the king back to safety while yelling for the others to make way. "We can't hold much longer," one of the guards growled, dragging Theoden away. As if to prove his point, the gate buckled. Aragorn, however, appeared and ran into the crowd, gripping Theoden's shoulder as he passed.

"Hold them!" Theoden called after him.

"How long do you need?" Aragorn yelled, not glancing over to the king.

"As long as you can give me!" the king replied. Aragorn nodded.

"Gimli!" He grabbed the dwarf and pulled him to a nearby door, which had been overlooked by all present. Gimli opened it and held it for Aragorn, who slammed it behind them. They were clinging to the outside edge of the fortress, a secret little ledge that curved around, almost to the causeway, where orcs were still trying to enter.

"Come on, we can take them!" Gimli snarled, peering dangerously around Aragorn's legs.

"It's a long way," Aragorn said. There was indeed a gap of about ten or eleven feet between the end of their ledge and the causeway, the drop leading to empty darkness below them.

Gimli considered for a moment, seeming to be considering a very painful choice, them muttered "Toss me."

"What?" Aragorn was not quite sure he had heard right, and he glanced down at the dwarf incredulously.

"I cannot jump the distance; you'll have to toss me!" Gimli spluttered angrily. Aragorn grinned, but Gimli caught his arm. "Don't tell the elf?"

"Not a word," Aragorn said, then heaved his friend into the orcs. He leapt as well, landing sword-first in an orc's neck. They ce orcs together, giving the men behind them time to brace up the gate, and Aragorn happened to glance back as the last board fell into place, obscuring the king's face.

Meanwhile, the orcs were setting up massive crossbows, their quarrels as long as a man, and the iron tip log so that none could cut it. They were launched high on the fortress, and were used to pull up more ladders, bigger than the others, these ones with hooks to keep them from falling.

Legolas saw the orcs flooding of of the newly erected ladders and loaded his bow, running for the edge of the wall so as to get a better shot. The biggest ladder yet was rising slowly, weighed down with a hundred orcs, and Legolas shot at the base of the crossbow bolt that held it to the wall. The rope snapped, sending the ladder toppling backwards into the crowding orcs. He had no time to admire this shot, though, as an orc immediately tried to take revenge on him. He drew Variele and dodged it, eyes catching on two lone figures, sanding in a pile of dead orcs upon the causeway. Aragorn turned as the king yelled something muffled, then was caught from behind by a large orc that spun both him and Gimli around to face the oncoming enemy.

"Aragorn!" Legolas yelled. He could not lose his friends this easily. Grabbing a coil of rope that seemed to have appeared by his feet, he cast it down to the causeway. Aragorn threw off the orcs and grabbed Gimli, then caught hold of the rope. An elf and a man appeared behind Legolas, pulling on the rope too as he dragged his friends up the wall. Yet another ladder fell against the fortress's wall as Aragorn scrambled over the top, Legolas grabbing his arms.

"Pull everybody back!" Theoden cried to a guard, eyes swimming with his dead countrymen's faces. "Pull them back!"

The guard ran off, repeating the order as he went. Various voices broke through the panic. "Fall back!" "Retreat!" The gate finally cracked, and the panic grew. "They have broken through!" "The castle is breached!" "Retreat!"

Aragorn shoved people along, yelling to elves and men alike. "Hurry! Inside, get them inside! Into the Keep!"

The orcs flooded the fortress, spreading like a dark stain, and Legolas's last glimpse of the outside of the fortress was worse than a nightmare: Bodies were strewn across the stones, mangled even as they lay dead by the foul orcs. Legolas shot a few more arrows before the doors slammed shut.

* * *

...So. Yes, I killed him. I killed off Haldir, and I'm sorry! I really am! Believe me, I still can barely watch that part without crying.

So, to my reviewers! **Narylfiel,** are you serious? A twin? OMG, thank you both so much for reading and hanging on for so long! That just...wow. Really brightened my day. Twins are great.

Anyway, my dudes, sorry for the gory-ish stuff, but this should be the last of that until the Return of the King. Don't Worry! Tirnel is doing...um, she's alive at the moment. You'll see her soon! Like, next chapter! I'll post that tonight too. Please drop me a line, and I added a new feature onto my profile too: **Character Close-Ups!** For more details, see my profile! Till next time! 3


	16. The Punishment of a Lie

Wow, two chapters in one night! This is a rare occurrence. Get your cameras. Anyhoo, it's Tirnel Time! And yes she does get smacked around a bit, but not like last time. Nothing like that again. Swear.

* * *

Saruman smiled, his hand clenched tightly around the small hoop of gold. It seemed hot in his hand, and he hurried toward his study where Wormtongue waited, stoking a fire.

"My lord, where have you been?" Wormtongue asked, setting the poker down. "I have been hearing screams, but I cannot discern their origin."

"Pay them no mind." Saruman swept past his vassal and stooped before the fire. He opened his hand.

There, shining in the light of the flames, was the ring. It shone innocently at him, and he smiled evilly to know the ring's secret. Wormtongue crept up behind him, confused and whining. "My lord, what is that? Why did you have me stoke the fire so high?"

"Later, Grima, later." Saruman wiped the sweat from his brow, panting slightly from the intense heat of the fire. Now was the time to cast the ring into the glowing embers of the fire, to set it among the coals. It was suddenly very difficult for Saruman to extend his arm and rotate his hand. That was all it would take, to throw the ring into the depths of the flames. And yet the wizard could not. It was only when Saruman realized that Wormtongue was eyeing the ring that he was able to fling it into the coals. He heard Wormtongue's intake of breath, and smirked as he watched the ring begin to glow. It shone in the flames, brighter than he thought that it must, and seemed to sparkle like sun on water.

Saruman quickly realized that the ring was melting, sinking in upon itself, and turning to liquid as he watched, horrified. The ring had melted away, almost completely, before Saruman grabbed the poker and spilled the coals on the stone floor. Grima yelped and scrambled back, leaping onto a chair to protect his feet, but Saruman poked through the coals with his staff until he found the lump of gold. It was twisted and filthy from the ashes, but bits of it still shone, as if to say, _I am still pure, though you tried to destroy me._ That defiance made Saruman recollect the elf in his dungeons, from whom he had taken the ring.

* * *

Deep in the dungeons below Isengard, that elf was dying. Tirnel could feel her light fading very slowly from her body: The stone of her ring, which usually reflected back all light, no matter how faint, only reflected the tiniest shred of light back at her. The air in her cell was stagnant and foul-smelling, and her own blood had been added to the sticky puddles on the floor. Her legs did not want to move at all, and every time they twitched in reflex, they lit up her nerves like fire in dry hay. Tears slid down her face as she dragged herself upright, sitting with her back leaning against the stone wall as she tried to regain her breath. The salt stood out against the dark floor, mocking the stars so far away. A thunderous knock like a battering ram sounded at the door. Orcs burst through it, jubilant and loud. She winced as their language blistered her ears and pierced her mind. One of them, the biggest, hauled her upright and tried to set her on her feet, but her legs crumpled. She cried out as she hit the floor, sure that her cuts had opened again.

"Get up, elf-scum!" it yelled. It landed a kick to Tirnel's ribs, making her wheeze and another tear seep out of her eyes. "Got a special treat for you today!" Orcs spread themselves around the perimeter of the room, two stationing themselves before the door.

Tirnel clawed herself upright on the wall, clinging to the chains that hung there, willing her tears not to fall. She managed to stand, back pressed against the wall, legs shaking with effort. Hot blood ran down the backs of her legs, making her bare feet slip on the stone. The door opened again.

Saruman entered, a small man with greasy hair trailing after him. The wizard was resplendent in his fury, sweeping across the dungeon and stopping in front of Tirnel.

"You lied to me," he hissed, then struck her across the face. Tirnel's legs gave out and she slumped to the floor, lip bleeding. "It was not the true Ring!" He threw a chunk of mangled and blackened gold to the floor between them.

Tirnel tried to sit up, but her arms trembled badly. "Did I ever allude to you that it was?" she whispered.

He snarled wordlessly and struck her again. The greasy man peered around the wizard, seeming curious. "My lord Saruman," he began, "I have only ever seen an elf once before; would you permit me to examine this one?"

Saruman nodded and left the room, magic humming about him like angry bees. The man knelt by Tirnel's head and took her face in his hand. "So fair," he muttered. She shuddered as he ran his thumb over her bloody lips, leaving a streak of blood on her face. He raised one hand, and Mauhúr pulled Tirnel to her feet. "Be sure not to harm her much more," the man said, stepping back from Tirnel. "I want her in good condition. After Sharkey is done with her, she comes to me. Only after that does she go to you." He left the dungeon as well.

"Well, well," the Dunlander growled in her ear. "Just us again." The other orcs stepped back, letting Mauhúr spin Tirnel around and grab both of her arms. He shoved her against the wall, setting her head spinning as he murmured the foul language to her, hands still tight on her arms and breath hot on her neck.

" _Chebo ber lin ello nîn, orch!"_ Tirnel hissed. The orcs howled at the sound of Sindarin, and Mauhúr placed his hand at her throat.

The door opened again, and Saruman and man were back. "Release her," the wizard snapped. Mauhúr snarled and tightened his grip on Tirnel's arm and throat, making her choke. "Now," Saruman added harshly. "We need her in good condition."

He snorted in disapproval, but shoved her to the floor. The greasy man pulled her over to the wall and wrapped a manacle around her left wrist. He locked it tight, pinching her skin. She refused to react, staring straight ahead even as his hand grazed her knee when he reached for the other manacle. He locked her right hand to the wall, then left with the wizard, the orcs following reluctantly behind.

The door slammed shut. There was a tap from the other side, and the handle glowed white for a moment. _**Locked with magic,**_ she thought grimly. _**It's not as though I'm able to escape, or even to try!**_ she wanted to shout. She winced as her legs throbbed, then tried to sit in a more comfortable position against the wall, fidgeting with the ring on her right index finger. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Late in the night, by Tirnel's reckoning, she woke. She hissed in pain as her legs twitched.

" _Well, this is a nice situation you've gotten yourself in, darling."_

Tirnel's head jerked up. An elleth was leaning against the wall beside the door, picking her nails idly. She glowed more brightly than was normal, her features seeming extremely familiar: It was like Tirnel was looking at an older version of herself with a few things deliberately different. " _Who...who are you?"_ she asked. Her mouth felt as though it had been filled with cloth.

The elleth laughed, walking over and sitting down before Tirnel. " _Why, don't you recognize me? I'm your mother."_

The elleth laughed at the look on her daughter's face. " _But you were killed!"_ Tirnel cried hoarsely. " _The spiders. I remember it!"_

" _Of course you do. I'm not really here, am I? This is all in your head."_ Laergulwen reached out to Tirnel's face. Her hand passed right through her daughter's cheek, leaving the elfling with the feeling of a chill wind caressing her face.

Tirnel swallowed, mouth dry. " _Why are you here?"_

Laergulwen laughed. " _Moral support,"_ she said. " _I will stay, stay for as long you need me."_ She smiled sadly, gazing at her daughter as Tirnel nodded and fell asleep once more. " _I'm so proud of you. Díheno nin."_

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And now we see a bit of the mother! Wow, who was expecting that? Well, me. Yay! Chapters! Hopefully reviews! Yay!

Sindarin Translation:  
 _Chebo ber lin ello nîn, orch_ \- Keep your hands from me, orc

 _Díheno nin -_ Forgive me


	17. Last March of the Ents

For Pete's sake. Why do I let me run my life. I should just outsource all mental control to my mom; she would be so much better at keeping on top of my life. Ugh. Here is the waaaaaaaaay too late chapter.

* * *

Treebeard was distressed at the hobbits' gloominess and anger, but firm in his decision. "I will leave you at the western borders of the forest," he said. "You can make your way north to your homeland from there." The hobbits did not reply. Merry was glaring at his own furry toes, but Pippin gasped.

"Wait! Stop! Stop!" The other two looked at him, Treebeard's mossy head craning around, and Merry with an alarmed expression. "Turn around," Pippin said. "Take us south instead. Turn around!"

"South?" Treebeard asked, flustered. "But that will lead you past Isengard!"

"Yes," Pippin said. "Exactly. If we go south, we can slip past Saruman unnoticed! The closer we are to danger, the father we are from harm! It's the last thing he'd expect."

"Hmm," Treebeard muttered. "That doesn't make sense to me...though you are very small. Perhaps you're right." He sighed. "South it is, then: Hold on, little Shirelings!" He swung about and face south instead, the dim light of the rising sun on their left. "I always like going south," Treebeard said. "Somehow it feels like going downhill."

"Are you mad?" Merry hissed up to Pippin. "We'll be caught! And we haven't Tirnel to protect us now!"

"No, we won't," Pippin said, grinning. "Not this time."

They trudged on for hours, until the sun was high behind the barrier of fog and smoke that hung over Isengard. "...and those little family of field mice that climb up sometimes, and they tickle me awfully. They're always trying to get somewhere where they-" Treebeard broke off. They had reached the new edge of the forest, where miles of trees had been cut away violently. "Many of these trees were my friends," he cried. "Creatures I had known from nut and acorn!"

"I'm sorry, Treebeard," Pippin said quietly.

"They had voices of their own!" the ent muttered. His eyes alit on the cruel dark spike of Orthanc, placed at the mountain's feet before them. "Saruman. A wizard should know better!" he snarled, quaking with fury. Treebeard hunched over suddenly, then exploded with a roar of grief and anger that rang throughout the forest and valley.

The echoes died away, leaving Treebeard panting and still furious. "There is no curse in elvish, entish, or the tongues of men for this treachery. My business is with Isengard tonight: with rock and stone."

A hoarse moaning echoed from the trees behind the hobbits and Treebeard, and Merry turned slowly to see the remaining trees behind them bristling with ents. They advance around Treebeard, and the old ent followed his fellows towards the dark tower. "Yes," Merry whispered, seeing now the brilliance of Pippin's plan.

"Come, my friends," Treebeard growled. "The ents are going to war. It is likely that we go to our doom: Last march of the ents."

* * *

I wish I was able to keep on top of these things. Here is a chapter. Much love to all of you.


	18. The Battle of Helm's Deep, final part

ah jeez, guys. I really had to get my life together.

Dawn was creeping in around the Hornburg, just as it was filled with creeping orcs, raising their dark banners emblazoned with the white hand of Saruman. A battalion of orcs were attempting to break down the doors to the keep, which were being desperately held by the men of Rohan.

"The fortress is taken," Theoden moaned, looking around at the women and children huddled at the edge of the room. "It is over."

"You said this fortress would never fall while your men defend it!" Aragorn yelled, heaving a bench into his arms. Legolas caught it and took it to the door. "They still defend it: They have died defending it!" Another attack shook the doors.

A woman cried, "They're breaking in!" Yelps and sobs rose from the children and women, one of them wrapping her arms around Eowyn with a sob. "They're past the door! another woman screamed.

Aragorn grimaced. "Is there no other way for the women and children to get out of the caves?" Theoden did not reply, staring morosely at the floor. Legolas flipped a table, the plates and candles clattering on the stone as he hauled it to the door. "Is there no other way?" Aragorn repeated, more insistently.

"There is one passage," Gamling said hesitantly. "It leads into the mountains. But they will not get far! The uruk-hai are too many!"

The doors cracked, and the men grunted and strained to brace it shut again. "Tell the women and children to make for the mountain pass," Aragorn said, gripping Gamling's shoulder. "And barricade the entrance!"

"So much death," Theoden said helplessly. "What can men do against such reckless hate?"

The door cracked again. Aragorn turned back to the king. "Ride out with me," he said grimly. "Ride out and meet them."

"For death and glory," Theoden agreed.

"For Rohan and for your people," Aragorn added.

Gimli paused on his way to brace the doors, glancing out of the slit in the stone. "The sun is rising." All those who had been present for Gandalf's last words remembered: _Look for my coming at first light on the fifth day. At dawn, look to the east._

"Yes," Theoden growled. "Yes. The horn of Helm Hammerhand shall sound in the Deep, one last time."

"Yes!" Gimli roared, and hurried off to the horn's tower.

Theoden placed a hand on Aragorn's shoulder, the light cutting across the king aged face. "Let this be the hour when we draw swords together." Aragorn nodded fiercely.

Gimli arrived at the horn's mouth, and below him, at the doors of the keep, the wood buckled at last.

"Fell deeds, awake," Theoden snarled. "Now for wrath." The braces cracked. "Now for ruin, and a red dawn!" Gimli blew upon the horn and the sound of it shook the very stones beneath the hooves of the horses. The braces fell away, and the orcs swarmed in. "Forth Eorlingas!" Theoden roared.

Legolas drew Variele and raised its glowing blue blade, yelling a Sindarin battle cry, " _Metho na lû n'i methorath danchen!"_ Aragorn grinned at his friend, and Legolas smiled back.

The Eorlingas charged out through wave upon wave of orcs, black blades meeting silver as the horses ran for the weak dawn. Orcs on the causeway screamed as they were cut down, falling from the stones into the abyss below, and Legolas gasped as Arod's hoof slipped on black blood. The valley below them was dark as night, clustered tight with orcs, all screaming for blood.

The fields before them were no better, and Legolas winced as he realized that he was just as likely to end up splattered across the stones as any of the orcs. Pushing this out of his head, he made it out onto the fields and was immediately separated from the rest by a wedge of orcs. Aragorn managed to shout to him, but his cry was mostly lost in the clamor of battle, even to Legolas's ears. The elf raised his sword, trying to signal that he was fine, and Aragorn did the same.

The dawn was near, but the mountains were holding back the Sun's rays from the two armies. The lowest point, a steep pass in the peaks, was gilded by sunlight, and in it (Legolas thought his eyes were fooling him) was a figure, dressed all in white astride a white horse. _Gandalf had come._ Even as he watched, Legolas saw Eomer and the rest of the Rohirrim appear and heard the triumphant yell of Theoden as he spotted his nephew.

The Sun broke over the mountains as Gandalf and the Rohirrim rode towards the unsuspecting orcs. Legolas laughed in relief, and thereafter the battle was a blur. Before he knew it, Theoden was yelling "VICTORY! WE HAVE VICTORY!" and Aragorn was wading through a pile of orcs towards him, bloody and filthy, limping but beaming. Gimli was trotting down the causeway, and the ground was littered with the dead.

The three of them retreated to behind the destroyed wall. Aragorn sheathed his sword, wincing as various bruises and cuts made themselves known. Legolas jumped down from the fragment of the wall as Gimli came down the stairs, the dwarf grumbling in discomfort with every step. Legolas stood beside Aragorn, placing a hand on the man's shoulder with an unasked question.

" _I'm alright,"_ Aragorn answered. " _You two?"_

"Yes," Legolas replied. "Gimli bumped his head on an orc's axe, but he should be fine. Have you seen Haldir?"

Aragorn's heart sank. " _Legolas...he was killed."_ He winced as Legolas grimaced, pain reflected in his deep blue eyes.

" _Lord Aragorn."_ An elleth's voice came from behind them, and they turned to see the dark-haired elleth who had been by Haldir's side. Her helm was under her arm, a jagged hole torn in one side. " _I am Uirwen, lieutenant to-,"_ she winced. " _I am the Marchwarden of Lorien, and I thank you for fighting alongside us."_

" _Thank you, Uirwen,"_ Aragorn said, bowing to the new Marchwarden with a hand across his chest. Legolas did so as well. "I am sorry to not have saved him."

Uirwen's face hardened, but she said "It is no matter. He will be honoured in Valinor, I am sure. You did your best, and Lorien harbours no ill will towards you. I shall take my...remaining host back to the Golden Wood, but Haldir's body shall be interred here with his fellow soldiers, if that is not averse to Rohan's king." Her eyes were dry, but they showed the pain of a widow.

Aragorn nodded solemnly. "It shall be so."

"I thank you, on the behalf of Lothlorien," Uirwen said, bowing her head and turning away. Aragorn watched her go, then left to find Theoden to tell him about the late Marchwarden.

"Final count, forty-two," Legolas said, running a hand along his bow, checking it for cracks and scratches. It was intact, owing mostly to the enchantment of the Galadhrim.

"Forty-two?" Gimli chuckled. "That's very nice, that is. I myself am sitting pretty on forty-three." He patted the head of the orc he was sitting on.  
Legolas pulled an arrow from his quiver faster than sight and shot the orc right between Gimli's legs. The dwarf jumped, but Legolas simply slipped his bow around his back and smoothed his hair away from his face. "Forty-three."

"He was already dead!" Gimli blustered.

"He was twitching," Legolas said, a smirk on his lips.

"He was twitching because he's got my axe buried in his central nervous system!" Gimli roared, jerking his axe back and forth in the orc's neck, making it flop back and forth.

Legolas chuckled. Gandalf beckoned to the two of them, and they followed him to the edge of the forest. Mordor was crackling with malice. "Sauron's wrath will be terrible; his retribution swift," Gandalf said darkly. "All our hopes now lie on two little hobbits, somewhere in the wilderness."

* * *

wow. here's the translation for the battle cry: Fight to the last man.


	19. Fire and Water

another chapter!

* * *

The door's handle glowed white for a moment, accompanied by a light tap. The door swung open, admitting Saruman and his accomplice. "Wake her, Gríma," the wizard said. The man crouched by the elf, noticing as he did so that her eyes were shut tight.

The girl whimpered softly and curled into a ball, arms still attached to the wall. "My lord," Gríma said, reaching down and placing a hand on her face. It was burning hot.

The wizard cursed, crouching and splayed his fingers over the girl's forehead, murmuring something in a strange language. The girl shuddered and moaned, sweat creating a sheen over her pale features. The light emitting from her skin was barely visible. Saruman glanced to her legs, one of which was a nasty shade of red. Something was giving off a horrible smell of rotting flesh. He tapped the manacles, which opened and fell to the ground with a clatter. "Get her up," he spat to Gríma. The man leaned down and lifted the elf into his arms. She was very light. Saruman swept out of the dungeon, ascending the steep stairs and opening the door to the other stairs, leading Gríma to a chamber off the room containing the _palantir_.

There was a table there, surrounded by various books and bottles. Gríma laid the elf down on the table, while Saruman looked through the books, muttering.

"Ah." The wizard picked up a bottle that had been under a cloth. "This will lower her fever and return her to some form of consciousness, and it might begin to heal her leg." He propped the girl up and opened her mouth, then poured a few drops down her throat.

He laid her back down and waited for a moment, while the girl's breathing eased, she stopped shaking, and her light grew slowly brighter. Gríma watched as her leg returned to a slightly less harsh colour, the gashes scabbing over.

"We can question her in a moment." Saruman left the room and returned a moment later with a chair. He sat himself in it and watched as the girl began to stir, moaning. Saruman smiled and leaned forward. "You're alright now. You are going to be fine."

She groaned, and her eyes flickered open. A confused look passed over her face. "N-no. They said…"

"What did they say?" Saruman asked.

"T-they said you fell. A Balrog."

"No, no. I'm here. What is your name?" Saruman said, leaning over her.

Her gold eyes seemed unfocused, and she frowned slightly. "I…"

"It's alright," Saruman assured her. "Just tell me your name."

"You know it," she muttered. "You taught me how to fight."

The wizard felt frustration sweep through his mind, but he ignored it and smiled. "Humor me."

"Tirnel."

"Who are you?"

"You know it, you know you do. I am the secret child of Thranduil. Radagast told you."

Saruman felt the heady sense of shock and twisted delight fill him, even as the elf's eyelids drooped and she slept again. "Gríma," he said, voice shaking with triumph. "We have a very valuable opportunity, if we bide our time."

A crash shook the tower from top to bottom, and Saruman staggered over to the window as Gríma whined about his head hitting the corner of the table.

Far, far below, trees were swarming at the walls of Isengard: Ents had come. In the branches of one, two tiny figures were clinging to the limbs for dear life.

Merry hadn't stopped grinning since they had approached the tower. One of the ents had ripped up a stone bigger than a respectable pantry, its fingers winding around the stone and lifting it as if it were a breadcrumb, then tossed it at Orthanc itself. The resounding crash shook them all, but Merry laughed and hefted a stone of his own.

The ents swept into the grounds, wiping away crowds of orcs like so many midges, stomping on those who tried to turn to archery. One ent was pulled to the ground by ropes, orcs beginning to hack at it with axes, but Treebeard threw a boulder that plowed through the orcs as if they were pebbles. Pippin and Merry both threw as many stones as they had, Pippin knocking one orc back into the cavern that it stood over. "A fine hit," Treebeard commented, as if at a sporting match. Orcs shot at some ents with fiery arrows, setting one ablaze before Treebeard gave his next command.

"Break the dam! Release the river!" he bellowed, and the ents obeyed, pulling at the braces that kept the water in check.

"Pippin!" Merry yelled, clinging to Treebeard's head. "Hold on!" Treebeard seemed to be literally rooting himself to the spot, digging vines into cracks.

"Hold on little hobbits!" he roared as the water hit them. The hobbits were jarred, but clung on as the other ents took the water's hit. The one who had been on fire dunked himself in the river.

Caverns filled with water, the orcs who had been in them drowning or crushed by their machinery, and a great cloud of steam rose from the pits as fires were extinguished. The river resumed it course, and the battle was won.

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yay, another one done. I'm really trying yall.


	20. Children of the King

another chapter!

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Legolas guided Arod over the roots, gaze sweeping the trees. His keen ears detected the faint sounds of laughter, but he could not be sure of whom it belonged to. Gimli clung to his back, seeming frightened, but remaining silent. Hasufel and Shadowfax walked before Arod, their riders also scanning their surroundings.

The laughter came again as Gandalf steered Shadowfax out of the trees, before a massive hole in the walls of Isengard. Two hobbits sat there, smoking their pipes and holding mugs of ale. Pippin held up his mug and gave a shout of welcome. Merry heaved himself up and called, "Welcome, my lords, to Isengard!" He gestured behind him, swaying slightly.

"You young rascals!" Gimli bellowed. Legolas would have said something similar, but his eyes were sweeping the walls for Tirnel. His heart sank; she was not there. "A merry hunt you've led us on, and now we find you feasting and-and smoking!" The dwarf gesticulated wildly with his axe as he spoke, nearly falling.

"We are sitting," Pippin began, mouth full of food, "on a field of victory, enjoying a few well-earned comforts." Merry grinned, smoke floating out of his mouth. "The salted pork is particularly good," Pippin added.

"Salted pork?" Gimli asked, his manner changing instantly.

"Hobbits," Gandalf grumbled.

"We're under orders, from Treebeard," Merry told them, "who's taken over management of Isengard. We'll take you to him."

The hobbits scrambled onto the horses of Aragorn and Éomer, then directed Gandalf into the shallow water that filled Isengard. As they neared the tower, a tree with arms and legs advanced towards them: an ent. Legolas watched in amazement as it spoke.

"Young master Gandalf. I'm glad you've come. Wood and water, stock and stone, I can master. But there is a wizard to manage here, locked in his tower."

"Show yourself," Aragorn muttered, eyes narrowed and searching the tower's walls.

"Be careful," Gandalf warned. "Even in defeat, Saruman is dangerous."

"Then let's just have his head and be done with it!" Gimli snapped. Legolas agreed, but said nothing.

"No," Gandalf said. "We need him alive." Éomer shot the wizard an incredulous glance. "We need him to talk."

A voice spoke from above. "You have fought many wars and slain many men, Théoden King, and made peace afterwards. May we not take counsel together as we once did, my old friend? Can we not have peace, you and I?" Saruman had appeared atop his tower, leaning on his staff and gazing down at the party.

"We shall have peace," Théoden began, not looking at the evil wizard. "We shall have peace when you answer for the burning of the Westfold, and the children that lie dead there!" He was glaring now at Saruman. "We shall have peace when the lives of the soldiers whose bodies were hewn, even as they lay dead against the gates of the Hornburg, are avenged! When you hang from a gibbet for the sport of your own crows, aye, then we shall have peace."

"Gibbets and crows," Saruman sneered. "Dotard! What do you want, Gandalf Greyhame? Let me guess; the Key of Orthanc, or perhaps the Keys of Barad-dur itself? Along with the crowns of the Seven Kings and the rods of the Five Wizards!"

"Your treachery has already cost many lives," Gandalf called. _**Please do not let Tirnel's be one of them,**_ Legolas thought. A wave of guilt swept through him as he thought this. "Thousands more are now at risk. You can save them. You were deep in the Enemy's counsel."

"So, you have come here for information," Saruman said, smiling slightly. "I have some for you." He thrust out one hand, in which a dark orb sat, seemingly filled with fire. Legolas could feel the dark magic from the ground. "Something festers in the heart of Middle-earth," Saruman said. "Something that you have failed to see. The Great Eye has seen it. Even now," he continued, hiding the orb, "he presses his advantage. His attack will come soon." Gandalf approached the Tower's base. "You are all going to die. But you know this, don't you Gandalf? You cannot think that this Ranger will ever sit upon the throne of Gondor." Aragorn glared at the wizard. "This exile, crept from the shadows will never be crowned king. Gandalf does not hesitate to sacrifice those closest to him." Legolas's stomach twisted. Did he know that Tirnel was Gandalf's friend? Had she been sacrificed? "Those he professes to love." Saruman laid a delicate stress on the word, cruel smile widening. "Tell me; what words of comfort did you give the Halfling, before you sent him to his doom? The path you have set him on can only lead to death." Gandalf lowered his head, seeming to realize this fully.

"I've heard enough," Gimli snarled, startling all present. "Shoot him," he said to Legolas. "Stick an arrow in his gut." Legolas reached for his bow, eyes narrowed in hatred, fully intending to pepper the twisted _Maia_.

"No!" Gandalf snapped. He turned back to the wizard atop the tower. "Come down, Saruman, and you life will be spared."

"Save your pity and your mercy!" Saruman yelled. "I have no use for it!" He directed the end of his staff towards Gandalf, shooting flames out of it. They engulfed Gandalf and Shadowfax, and the rest of the party, all of whom had their weapons ready, drew back.

The flames receded, leaving an unharmed horse and rider behind. "Saruman," Gandalf called again, almost sadly. "Your staff is broken."

The staff that Saruan clung to shattered in his hands, leaving him shaking and furious. A man appeared behind him, dragging with him the form of a semiconscious elf. Legolas felt a surge of emotion in his mind, and he recognized them as not his own, but the emotions of his sister. Wormtongue had a knife to her throat and seemed to be waiting for a command.

"Gríma!" Théoden called. "You need not follow him. You were not always as you are now. You were once a man of Rohan!" The king's voice dropped. "Let her go. Come down."

"A man," Saruman mocked, "of Rohan. What is the House of Rohan but a thatched barn where brigands drink and reek, and the brats roll on the floor with the dogs? The victory at Helm's Deep does not belong to you, Théoden Horsemaster! You are a lesser son of greater sires."

"Gríma," Théoden said again, ignoring the wizard's insults with some effort. "Come down. Be free of him."

"Free?" Saruman said, fury twisting his features. "He will never be free. Nor shall the elf."

"No," Gríma said quietly, taking the knife from Tirnel's throat.

"Get back, cur!" Saruman yelled, and hit Gríma across the face. The wizard grabbed Tirnel's arm as she fell and pulled her up. She tried to loosen his hand, but he tightened his grip, making her cry out in pain. Legolas had an arrow between his fingers almost before he knew it. Tirnel's emotions called out to him, begging for him to kill the wizard.

"Saruman!" Gandalf called. "You were deep in the Enemy's counsel. Tell us what you know."

"You withdraw your guard, and I will tell you where your doom will be decided. I will not be held prisoner here! But I shall make you another deal, Greyhame. Give me the Ring and millions, starting with Mirkwood's royal bastard, will not be killed." Legolas felt the arrow slip from between his fingers and dimly heard it land in the water. The wizard smiled cruelly. "Ah, and the other child is here, too. How touching." Aragorn and Gandalf were gazing, clearly horrorstruck, up at Saruman.

"Let her go, Saruman!" Gimli bellowed. "She's done nothing to you!" Saruman smiled, seeming to be amused. Legolas readied another arrow.

"An elf, being defended by a dwarf? This is very interesting. Do tell, Master dwarf, how did this come to be?" He smirked down at Gimli, who had begun to growl. "I am waiting for your answer, Gandalf. Tell me where the Ring is. Gríma will bring her down, as soon as you tell me." A light spread from Saruman's hand, pulsing through Tirnel's arm and making her yelp in pain. A sharp sting echoed through Legolas's head, making him wince.

"No!" Wormtongue had lunged forward, knife ready, and stabbed the wizard twice in the back before yanking Tirnel away from the edge and raising his knife again.

Legolas quickly raised his bow and shot, hitting Gríma in the chest. The man fell back with a cry of pain. Saruman fell slowly forwards off the edge of Orthanc, spinning head over heels, and landed with a sickening thud on a spiked wheel at its base, adding an awful finality to his death. The hobbits gasped in revulsion, but Legolas was gazing up at the tower, eyes narrowed: Tirnel's emotions had relaxed, but he barely felt her at all.

"Send word to all our allies," Gandalf said to Théoden, "and to every corner of Middle-earth that still stands free. The enemy moves against us, we need to know where he will strike." A twinge of pain appeared in Legolas's mind, and his own panic responded. Had Wormtongue survived the arrow, and was even now threatening Tirnel?

He leapt off his horse, disregarding the shocked yell of Gimli and Gandalf's cry of warning, sprinting up the stairs at Orthanc's base and into the Tower itself. "Mithrandir!" he yelled. "How do you get to the top?"

Gandalf joined him in the Tower, pointing towards a long staircase. Legolas ran to it and up them as fast as he could, panic surging through his veins and making his head pound. He burst into a large chamber that had a plinth in the middle, a cloth placed on it. The cloth had an indentation in its center, as though something had lain there. A door stood open beside Legolas, and he glanced into a room that held a table and other things cluttering it. On the table were Tirnel's boots and stockings. He snatched them up and returned to the main room, where Gandalf was ascending another staircase.

The top of the stairs were capped with a trapdoor, which Gandalf pushed open. The wind buffeted Legolas and blew his hair into his face as he scanned the platform, eyes catching sight of two crumpled figures near the edge. He ran to them, forgetting Gandalf behind him, and crouched before the first. It was Gríma, and Legolas gave him a nudge to make sure he was dead: He was. Legolas stood again and hurried to the other figure.

Tirnel was barely conscious, eyes fluttering as she tried to make sense of who was kneeling over her. Legolas swept his cloak off, folding it and placing it behind his sister's head. " _Tirnel, please wake. It is Legolas. Please Tirnel, please wake,"_ he muttered, brushing hair out of her face. He tried not to look at her legs, torn by whips and burned by salt. He had known a fraction of that pain once, when he had cut himself in the palace's kitchens as an elfling and stuck his hand into a jar, thinking it was sugar. _**But to have been whipped and the salt ground in by orcs…**_ Legolas shuddered at the thought.

She tried to move, but Legolas placed his hands on her shoulders. Her lips were bloody and cracked, but she managed to whisper to him. " _Gwanor nîn. Is it...is it you?"_

He could have sobbed in relief. " _Yes, Tirnel. I am here. Oh, man agorer angin? Can you sit up?"_ He put one hand behind her head, trying to support her as she attempted to sit. She fell back, though, gasping in pain as her legs touched the floor. " _Here."_ He carefully wedged an arm under her knees, then got her to wrap her arms around his neck, pulling her close with one arm around her torso. Standing, he turned to see Gandalf already descending the stairs. Legolas followed him, careful to keep his arm from grazing Tirnel's wounds. Gríma's body stayed silent and still, completely forgotten.

The three of them exited the base of Orthanc, where the horses still waited. Aragorn muttered something in Sindarin, his eyes wide, and dismounted. He removed Gimli from Arod and put him on Shadowfax, then sloshed over to help Legolas get Tirnel onto Arod. The hobbits were staring at her, clearly horrified by her sacrifice to keep them safe. Théoden and Éomer were looking at the unconscious elfling, evidently in shock. To them, the notion that a female would subject herself to such torture in order to protect others was unprecedented.

Aragorn and Legolas managed to sit Tirnel up on Arod's back, then Aragorn held her still while Legolas mounted behind her. Gandalf mounted Shadowfax, and Aragorn Hasufel, and they sped away from Orthanc, back east towards Edoras.

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translation

 _man agorer angin? =_ what has happened to you?


	21. Drinks to Victory and Visiting Villains

this will be the last chapter before I switch over to book three.

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Legolas sighed. He had been sitting by Tirnel's bedside for two hours, after Aragorn had finished cleaning and binding her wounds. Gandalf stood at the window of the room, looking out over Rohan's fields as the sun set. Aragorn had just left the room when a serving woman had popped her head in to say that his water had boiled. He now returned with a mug of tea, steeped heavily with healing herbs.

" _Help me, Las,_ " Aragorn muttered. Legolas sat on the edge of Tirnel's bed, placing his arms under her to lift her into a sitting position. Aragorn supported her head as he held the cup to her lips, and gently tipped it.

The tea was hot, and Tirnel's eyes flickered as she drank it. After a moment, she raised a hand and tipped the cup back.

"Thank you," she said thinly. Her voice was still rough, both from screaming and dehydration. Aragorn set the cup on a side table, then helped Legolas ease her back onto her pillows.

" _How are you feeling?"_ Legolas asked gently, gripping one of her hands.

She gave him a wry smile. " _Just fine. I've been kidnapped and tortured for a week. Why should I be anything but perfect?"_

" _Tirnel."_ Gandalf approached from where he stood at the window. She gasped, shock and relief playing across her face.

" _Mithrandir! They said you'd fallen, then…"_ she stopped, frowning. " _Weren't you in Isengard?"_

Gandalf frowned. So did Aragorn and Legolas. "No, I was not," Gandalf answered. "Why would think that?"

"I…" Tirnel rubbed her head with her free hand. "I'm not sure. I seem to remember you standing over me, asking me my name. I told you, but you already knew. You asked me who I was, but… you knew that too."

Gandalf swooped down on her, eyes blazing. "Did you tell him anything of the Ring? Did you tell him of Frodo and Sam?"

Tirnel flinched, gasping in pain. Legolas glared at Gandalf. " _Mithrandir, she needs to be resting!"_

"That was Saruman you spoke to, Tirnel! You need to tell me what you said to him!" Gandalf said, ignoring Legolas.

"I...I was delirious with fever!" Tirnel protested, shrinking back into her pillows. "And I told him nothing beyond my name and lineage! I told him nothing of the Ring, but that I had seen it."

"Why in the world did you tell him that?" Gandalf snapped.

"Because it was the only way for me to survive!" Tirnel snarled. Gandalf drew back, shocked. "If I had not done what I did, I would have taken the path of Celebrian! Then, perhaps I would have told of the Ring. I think, considering what has happened, that we were very lucky!" She gasped again in pain as she tried to sit up straighter, her legs throbbing with each movement. "Did you not tell him of the false Ring?" she added to Legolas and Aragorn.

"No, we did not. We have been rather busy ourselves," Aragorn said dryly. "Considering we just came through a deadly and hard-won battle."

"What do you mean, 'false Ring'?" Gandalf asked. He seemed to be feeling a little calmer, and stepped back from Tirnel.

"Before I left Lothlorien with the Fellowship, Lady Galadriel had a false Ring made. She enchanted it to draw in whoever saw it, unless they knew that it was false. All of the Fellowship were present for its enchantment, so none of them were tempted to take it." Tirnel winced and shifted, then took the cup from the side table. She paused to take a sip of the tea, then set it back on the table. "When I was captured, I used it to bargain for my life. Saruman took it, thinking it to be the true Ring. When he threw it into flames, to see if it was the real Ring, it melted. He immediately took… revenge." She glared darkly at her bloodstained bandages.

No one spoke for a moment, then Legolas said, "You see, Mithrandir, we delayed him with this strategy. He wasted time, believing that he possessed the One Ring. Now, he is further away from taking the Ring than he would have been, had Tirnel not given the false Ring."

"I do see," Gandalf replied. "Forgive me, Tirnel, for acting rashly. As Aragorn has said, we just came through a hard battle."

"I did hear an army above me, while I was in Isengard's dungeons. Who have we lost?" Tirnel asked. "Where is Gimli? And did you find the hobbits?"

"Gimli is in the main hall, celebrating, and the hobbits are with him," Legolas said, dreading the moment when he would have to tell of Haldir's death. "They are all well, but…"

"But what?" Tirnel asked, growing nervous. "Who did we lose?" Legolas did not look at her. "Aragorn, who did we lose?" Tirnel asked, more insistently this time.

Aragorn winced, then sighed. "Tirnel...maybe we should not say. You need to rest."

"Tell me. Or I will get up, find my sword, and take your head," Tirnel snarled.

"Tirnel, we… we lost Haldir," Legolas said finally.

"What?" Tirnel whispered. The blood had left her face rapidly, making her look like a ghost. "How? This was a battle of Rohan, not of Lothlórien! How did Haldir - How could he be there?" Her voice was breaking, eyes filling as she remembered the Marchwarden's rare smile and prowess in battle.

"A contingent of elves from Rivendell and Lothlorien came to aid Rohan's people at Helm's Deep," Aragorn said. "Haldir was leading them. We pulled back to the keep, but… I was not quick enough to reach him. Uirwen is Marchwarden now. She sends greetings."

Tirnel swiped a hand across her eyes. The room fell silent as she tried not to fall apart. Legolas placed his arm around her shoulders, sensing her grief flowing through their connection. "How many?" Tirnel asked suddenly. "How many elves?"

Aragorn winced again. "At least a hundred," he muttered.

Tirnel paled further. Legolas glared at Aragorn, then said rather pointedly, "Aragorn, I believe Théoden King was looking for you earlier." Aragorn frowned, but got the message and stood.

To Tirnel, he said, "I will change your bandages tomorrow morning." She nodded, and Aragorn turned to Gandalf. "Care to join me?"

Gandalf nodded, then turned to Tirnel. "My dear, I am sorry for losing my temper. I hope you will feel better when morning comes." He left with Aragorn, shutting the door softly behind them.

Once the door was shut, Tirnel allowed tears to fall. Legolas noticed this, and tightened his arm around her shoulders.

"Do you remember when we left Lothlórien?" she asked softly. "There were two elves on the shore of the river. One ellon, one elleth. Was the ellon among the dead?"

Relieved that he could give her some good news, Legolas replied "No. He was not among the dead, nor was he among the living, that I could see. I suppose he and his wife departed to Valinor shortly after you left Lothlórien."

She exhaled. "Good." They sat in silence for a few minutes more, then Tirnel let her head fall back. "Las, you should join the merry-making. I am sure you were instrumental in this battle, and the men of Rohan will be eager to thank you."

"Are you going to be alright?" Legolas asked, feeling less than comfortable with leaving Tirnel alone in such a vulnerable state.

"I will be fine. Go and rejoice. You have me back, and that deserves celebration," she said, winking at him.

He smiled, then kissed her forehead. "Fine. I will check on you in the morning, and perhaps sometime this night. Shall I keep others from entering? Gimli would have been happy to know that you are alright."

"Ooh, Gimli! I forgot about him. Will you bring him in before I go to sleep?" she asked, shifting to sit up straighter and wincing.

"Of course. I will also bring the hobbits, if you would like." Legolas had his hand on the door, but it opened before he could pull on the handle.

Two heads of curly brown hair poked through the door, followed by the anxious face of two smiled and beckoned them forth. "Oh, Tirnel!" Pippin cried. "We were so worried! You never came back, and we saw all those orcs chasing you, and Treebeard was taking us to see Saruman, but it wasn't him-,"

"I can see I was missed much," Tirnel said amusedly.

"What happened after the orcs chased you?" Merry asked, sitting on the edge of the chair by Tirnel's bedside. It was big enough to allow Pippin to climb up beside him.

"I had killed all but two of those orcs," Tirnel began, grinning as she took on the air of a seasoned storyteller. "And I only had my two little knives, remember? So, I was standing in a pile of my enemies, only two left to challenge me, when I felt a terrible blow on the back of my head. I fell and I can't remember anything else for a while." Both hobbits were gazing at her in wonder. "When I came to, I was bound beside a fire, over which two orcs and a man were roasting- can you guess?"

"Deer?" Merry asked.

"Your legs?" Pippin said.

"Part of a human?" Legolas asked, sitting on the foot of Tirnel's bed.

"How could it have been my legs, Pip? Yes, Legolas: It was an arm, and they offered me a finger, once they saw that I had awoken. You know, looking back, I should have eaten it. They didn't offer me anything else," Tirnel mused.

"What?" Legolas said, giving a start. "They starved you?"

"Yes," Tirnel replied airily. "I suppose it was a tactic of interrogation. Didn't work, though."

"I'm getting you food at once." He stood quickly and left the room.

Tirnel shrugged. "So, I refused the finger and went back to sleep, after stealing a waterskin."

"But how?" Pippin asked. "You said you were bound!"

"And I was! I'm glad you're listening," Tirnel said. "They threw one close to me, to taunt me. After they had put out the fire, I bit into it and drained it. The next morning, I was rather rudely awoken with a foot in my ribs. One of the orcs' doing, of course. He was about to kill me, but the other orc and the man woke up."

Legolas returned, a tray of food in his hands. He set it on Tirnel's bedside table, then chivied the hobbits out of their chair. "Come on, you two. She needs to eat."

"But things were just picking up!" Pippin protested.

"She'll tell you later, after some food. Go back in the hall and pester Gandalf for some fireworks, why don't you?"

"Oh, fine," Merry grumbled. "Come on, Pip. Let's go show these men how we celebrate in the Shire."

They left the room, and Legolas took their chair. "Thank you, Legolas," Tirnel said, starting to eat as though she had not for weeks, which was quite true.

"Happy to help." He leaned forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. "What did happen, after you left the hobbits?"

She shrugged. "Captured. Starved and dehydrated. Beaten a few times, but never like Celebrian. I tried to escape once, but I got caught. Taken to Isengard, put in the dungeon, tortured. You know the rest." She fell silent and continued to eat as Legolas thought over all she had said and considered what she had left out.

Finally, he spoke. "Well, you will be happy to know that I have retained all your weapons. I also have your cloak and boots."

Tirnel grinned. "Really? Thanks! Where did you find them?"

"I found Variele on Amon Hen, along with your scarf." Legolas untied the scarf from around his wrist and placed it on her bed covers. "Your knives were buried in leaves, but I found them. Gandalf found your small knives and your cloak in the clearing where you were recaptured, and your boots were in Saruman's study."

She laughed. "It seems that bits of me are scattered all over!"

Legolas grinned. "Yes, they were. But now you are all here, and I hope you don't leave before you're all healed."

"I won't, but why are you closeting yourself in here with me? Go have fun!" she told him. "I know that's a foreign concept to you, but do try to enjoy yourself."

After a few more minutes of prodding, Legolas stood and left. Tirnel finished her food, then settled back into her pillows with the cup of tea. It was still warm, and Tirnel finished it before it went cool. She reached down to the floor beside her bed and discovered Variele. She admired it for a moment in the candlelight, then set in on the chair, blowing out the candle just before she fell asleep.

In the main hall, Legolas was waylaid by Gimli and Éomer. They pulled him over to where a barrel sat, on an X of wood. A crate of mugs sat on the table where Gimli took a seat. The hall was throbbing with noise and smoke, the men laughing and yelling like children.

Éomer filled two mugs and handed them to Legolas and Gimli. "No quarters, and no spills."

"And no regurgitations!" Gimli added, taking his mug with relish.

"So…" Legolas said, taking his own mug with some trepidation. "It's a drinking game?" The men around him laughed and raised their mugs, answering him with their ruddy faces.

"Last one standing wins!" Gimli said with a wolfish laugh. Legolas sniffed his mug cautiously. The liquid smelled like it was several years past the point where it had been ingestible.

Gimli raised his mug and began to drink. "Let's drink to victory!" one man behind Legolas yelled, which was met with several more yells. The elf lifted the mug to his lips, muttered a quick prayer to the Valar, and drank.

Across the hall, Éowyn was approaching Aragorn with a cup of wine. She smiled shyly and offered it to him, stuttering out some Sindarin. He took the cup from her and drank wordlessly, then bowed to her and melted into the crowd. Théoden took his place.

"I am happy for you," the king said. "He is an honorable man."

"You are both honorable men," she replied.

"It was not Théoden of Rohan who led our people to victory," he muttered. Éowyn looked earnestly into her uncle's face, but he smiled gently. "Ah, don't listen to me," he said. "You are young, and tonight is for you."

Gimli was finishing off one of his numerous ales. He had quite a pile built before him, mugs stacked every which way. Legolas drained his own and passed it to a man nearby, who set it in Legolas's pile. The mugs on his side of the table were in neat rows, and the elf looked disapproving as Gimli stood to flatulate loudly.

"Ah yes, it's the dwarves that go swimming with little hairy women!" Gimli slurred, swaying gently on his stool. He gave another wolfish chuckle and a loud belch before burying his face in a mug.

Legolas frowned. "I...feel something," he said, raising one of his hands. Éomer looked over, eyes widening "A kind of tingling in my fingers." The elf looked up, slightly panicked. "I think it's affecting me!"

"Aha," Gimli said, leaning over the table. "Wha' did I say? He can't hol' his liquor!" The dwarf's eyes drifted inwards to his nose, and he fell off of his barrel.

Glancing over the table, Legolas set down his last mug. "Game over," he said calmly.

Merry and Pippin saw none of this, as they were dancing a jig on a table several yards away. "Oh, you can search far and wide, you can drink the whole town dry, but you'll never find a beer so brown, oh you'll never find a beer so brown as the one they drink in my hometown. The only brew for the brave and true comes from the Green Dragon!" The hobbits clunked their mugs together and drank, the men around them cheering. "Thank you!" Pippin called. "I win!"

The men slept on the floor of the hall that night, mostly too drunk or too thankful to have survived to leave. Tirnel's room was close to the hall, and Legolas had placed his bedroll on the floor there. Tirnel was asleep, so Legolas put on his cloak, hood up, and took a walk around the hall's outer ledge. Upon reaching the place where he had first seen Eowyn, he stopped and closed his eyes, breathing the sharp, cold air from the night around him. He heard the quiet footsteps behind him and recognized Aragorn's breathing as the man joined him. "The stars are veiled."

Back inside the hall, Pippin could not sleep. When Legolas had sprinted up into the tower to retrieve Tirnel, he had jarred the spiked wheel that held Saruman, and the fiery orb (now dark) that the wizard had been holding fell out of his sleeve and into the water. Pippin had slipped off Aragorn's horse and picked the thing up. It was very heavy, and even as he tried to get a good look at it, Gandalf and Legolas reappeared, the latter holding Tirnel carefully in his arms. She'd looked a real mess, but had looked better when he had looked in on her.

Now, he crept over to where Gandalf slept at the head of the hall. He gasped as his stomach leapt to the ceiling: Gandalf's eyes were wide open. Dead? Awake? No, he was asleep, but with his eyes open as if he were an elf.

"Pip, what d'you think you're doing?" Merry had woken up, and was sitting up, bleary and confused.

"I just wanted to look at it." Pippin picked up the water pitcher from beside Gandalf, and carefully slipped it into the wizard's arms as he removed the orb. "Just one more time." He sat back on his heels and held the orb before him.

Outside, Legolas frowned. "Something stirs in the east. A sleepless malice." A heavy dread settled on his heart as he realised what was happening. "The Eye of the enemy is moving. He is here! Something is happening in the hall!: He took off at a sprint, hearing Merry crying out in fear or horror.

He burst into the hall with Aragorn beside him and found Pippin writhing on the floor, hands locked onto a wheel of fire and making strangled noises of pain. "Gandalf, help!" Merry cried, clutching his friend's shoulders. Aragorn leapt forward and seized the orb, grunting in pain as it latched on. Gandalf sprung to his feet as Aragorn crumpled to the floor, the orb bouncing out of his hands and rolling across the floor. The wizard grabbed a blanket and tossed it over the orb, concealing it.

"Fool of a Took!" he roared, rounding on Pippin. The hobbit was curled on the ground, unmoving. Gandalf knelt beside him and passed a hand over his face, muttering "Come back to us, Peregrin." Aragorn pushed himself up onto an elbow, Legolas crouching beside him.

Pippin gasped and clutched Gandalf's hand, terror in his face. "Look at me," Gandalf commanded gently.

"Gandalf…" Pippin whispered. "Forgive me!"

He tried to pull away, but Gandalf held him stil. "Look at me!" Legolas heard a noise from behind him and saw that Tirnel had limped into the room, wincing and leaning on the doorframe. "What did you see?" the wizard asked.

Pippin closed his eyes. "A tree...there was a white tree in a courtyard of stone...it was dead. The city was burning."

"Minas Tirith?" Gandalf asked.

"I saw…" Pippin paused, still gasping for air. "I saw him! I could hear his voice in my head…"

"What did you tell him?" Gandalf hissed, squeezing Pippin's fingers as if they were a lifeline. "Speak!"

"He asked me my name. I didn't answer," Pippin whispered. "I didn't answer. He...hurt me…"

"What did you tell him about Frodo and the Ring?" Gandalf asked, now more angrily than ever. Pippin gasped at him for a moment more.

"Nothing...I couldn't say anything...He...he said to me, he said: "Wait a moment! We shall meet again soon. Tell Saruman that this dainty is not for him. I will send for it at once. Do you understand? Say just that!"

Gandalf sat back on his heels. "Well, we cannot know the full damage of this exchange until later. Aragorn, if you can, please make Peregrin something for sleep. Tirnel, my dear, go back to your room; you should not have come. Legolas, help her. All the rest of you," for the men of Rohan asleep in the hall had watched this in fear and wonder, "back to sleep."

Tirnel started back to her room, and Legolas joined her after helping Aragorn to his feet. He took her arm and slung it around her shoulders, taking weight off her legs, and once at her room, he picked her up and put her on her bed. "Thank you, Las," she said. "What will happen to Pippin?"

"He will be fine, but I do not envy a brush with Sauron and angering Gandalf: bad encounters with two Maiar, minutes apart!" Legolas hook his head and lay down. "Get some rest, Tirnel. I will see to it that Aragorn changes your bandages in the morning."

The two elves slept, the cold night air filling their dreams with frozen stars and icy rivers.

* * *

that was a nice chapter.


	22. End Note 2

So, right off the bat, I want to apologize for leaving like I did. And to **lady verdm** , you really pulled me back. I saw that someone, months and months after I'd almost forgotten about Tirnel (except for that uncomfortable bit of me that's entirely devoted to yalls), had noticed her and the story and followed for more. I'm really sorry for dropping the ball. Now, I know exudes are bad, but I really did have a lot of stuff going on in my life, especially over the last month or so. My aunt passed right before Thanksgiving, and my girlfriend broke up with me like three weeks ago...but I'm getting back on it. I'm back on the Tirnel Train. And this is a good way to end the second part, Tirnel and Legolas reuniting! I can't wait to get more stuff out there for you. Yes, you, whoever you are, this is meant specifically for you. See you next time. 3


End file.
